


How the Gyrfalcon came to Asgard

by Wolkenschopf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: On Hiatus, Other, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Warnings May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolkenschopf/pseuds/Wolkenschopf
Summary: ! THIS WORK IS ON HIATUS !I'm sorry for anyone currently following this story. I've been stuck on the narrative for a while, and decided to put it off for now, to work on other things. I hope to find new spirit and pick it up again someday.*Loki meets an annoying Bard in a bandits den, after Frigga has stripped him off his magical powers. Now they try to escape and re-unite with Thor and the Warrior Three. Eventually, Loki takes a liking to the witty and surprisingly knowledgeable fool. The Skáld, however, has some plans of his own.Plays before the events of the Thor moviesUse of some Nordic names, words and innuendos to mythology, mainly because I am too lazy to make up anything myself. Chapters will include an appendix with explanations for those who are interested. It isn't required for understanding the major plot, though. And of course, I only use those as a loose base for inspiration and get my sources from not creditable internet pages (Wikipedia, forums, Wikis etc.). This is a work of fiction, after all, and I'm no academic in this field.Have fun!





	1. Meet Me At 10 In the Bandits Den

Is this really happening? As punishment for one of his deeds, his mother Frigga had temporarily stripped Loki of his magic powers. She also wouldn’t return them, when he headed out with Thor, Warrior Three and Lady Sif to inspect a chain of incidences in Vanaheimr. Already on their journey for three months without finding much, they stayed the night at an Inn on the roadside. Ever so fast, his companions got drunk beyond good and evil. Soon their behavior turned unbearable to watch and Loki decided to seek refuge in his private room. And that’s where a pack of warriors had waited for him in ambush and abducted him swiftly. Now he had just woken up in a peculiar smelling, damp and dark den and was considering this situation to be one of the worst in his life. He fought with a major headache and had no magic to soothe it, let alone use to simply walk out of here cloaked in invisibility. Under such circumstances, the snoring bard in one corner of this shared prison only made for the tip of the iceberg. At least he grasped to the hope any person could only wear such a ridiculous hat, frilly shirt and patterned tunic if their profession was anything along the lines of a skáld. Pain and mockery fueled his anger. But to think his way out of this disastrous situation, he had to calm down first. In this moment, his fellow hostage carelessly rose from his slumber - and with him the perfect scapegoat to vent Loki’s anger on appeared.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty”, he greeted sarcastically. The bard rubbed his nose and blinked twice before shutting his eyes again. Of course, normal people wouldn’t be able to see in this dark hole. Even for the god’s eyes, the scenery was dim. To his surprise, a carefree grin appeared on his counterparts face.

“Oh my! Another guest! What a nice change of events!” His voice matched the overall weird impression the man left on the trickster perfectly. It’s tone slightly too high for a mans, yet a tad too low for the average woman. The man got up and adjusted this abomination of a head wear. Loki noticed cheap looking accessories dangling from both of the tips that hung low to the right and left of his head. And he had thought to have seen the worst of it.

“Perfect timing!”, the man chattered on. “I was getting a little lonely and bandits don’t talk much or make for good company in general. I am called…”

“Silence you peasant!”, Loki spat, having enough of this fool’s ways. “Do you not recognize the god in your presence?” Unimpressed, the other man inched closer to where he must assume Loki to stand. His motions were quite lanky.

“What a time and place to make a gods acquaintance! I am sad to bid you look into my eyes and excuse them for not recognizing my lord.” And he opened his eyes again. A pair of grey, foggy pupils blinked vaguely into nothing.

“So you’re a blind man.”

“Yes, my lord. And as such, it is always hard to recognize a voice never uttered in my presence before. May I humbly inquire to enlighten me in whose mighty presence this meek mime finds himself?” He performed a perfect bow. Surprisingly, none of his words or actions exceeded a mocking vibe as Loki had expected. Still, he could not dismiss the impression completely when the skimpy accessories on that hat made the slightest dangling sound.

“Loki Odinsson”, he replied. The next reaction was satisfying, when only for a short while.

“The mighty himself? Wielder of wicked magic greater than those of the most apt Vanir? The wittiest trickster of all of the nine realms? The horned beast which..”

“Yes, yes! Enough already! I get that you’ve heard of me.”

“Thank you!”

“Pardon?” Caught in bewilderment, he missed to dodge the skáld who suddenly tackled him from the side to lock his arms around him in a tight embrace. After the initial shock was overcome, Loki was fast to push him off and watch him topple to the ground.

“Cease that! What do you think you’re doing? I’ll have you beheaded for such behavior!” A thread to his life didn’t seem to affect the brimming expression on that idiotic face. What an utterly annoying scapegoat.

“Excuse me, my Lord. The realization, that I could express my gratitude to one of the men I owe my livelihood to flooded me with joy and excitement. A handshake, however, is a tedious trial for the blind to initiate. So I jumped to the conclusion an embrace would be the next proper expression of my feelings.”

“You’re really a sleazy skáld”, Loki spat.

“A bard or traveling author, poet, singer, dancer and performer. All for the greater cause of spreading the tales and glorious adventures of the Allfather, his two sons, their loyal companions and vengeful enemies all over Vanaheim. I travel in your duty, my highness.” The same bow again. He was a smooth talker and actor, but aside from that, there was nothing to this hoodwink.

“I personally never really liked your kind. You choose your words according to the occasion. If you stood before Malekith or Laufey, you would praise them all the same. The honor you want to adorn yourself with according to your words, is nowhere present in your actions.”

“What harsh critique from my very idol. Such misery, I fear my heart must break!”

“I’ll really have you beheaded once I’m out of here”, Loki mumbled to himself while he turned to take another good look at his surroundings. Massive stone walls covered in marks showed that this part of the cave at least, was man-made. So they were stuck somewhere in a labyrinth of tunnels and dead ends, making a successful escape even harder to pull off. A thick, wooden floor sealing off the entrance to this hole functioned as a door. Not impossible to overcome with a little effort, but muffled voices ensured him guards were posted beyond this obstacle. Regardless, these bandits must’ve plagued this area for a long time now. Such a settlement was not fit for a wandering troop. That conclusion made it seem even weirder that no one had uttered a single warning word to them on their way here. But how could they even abduct him from that Inn? The moment and stages of the attack were all well planned. They must had followed them for a while before their final strike. In general, these bandits were well organized and seemed to follow a bigger goal then just robbing goods and treasures from careless travelers. This was not a common bandits den, but an organization of larger scale.

“Your highness?” He sought to throw daggers at the bard with his glare. His actual weapons were all gone, so this had to suffice. When he looked at the man with his closed eyes, he remembered what a futile attempt it was and settled for a simple frown. “I’m sorry to disturb your train of thoughts, but I have a question that bothered me for a while”, he continued.

“I have no obligation to answer you, less hear out your inquiries. Hush now, and I’ll show mercy by assigning a less painful death to you.”

“Of course, my Lord”, the fool agreed submissively. Finally, he could concentrate on working out a way to escape – or so he thought, when he heard the man behind him breathe deep to prepare for speech.

“Why…” With his last voice of reason snapping, Loki grabbed the annoying bastard by his frilly collar and strangled him. An easy task, seeing as he was a good head taller than the other man, whom he also found to be surprisingly light.

“You’ve ignored my warning, scrawny bard. Someone else will have to tell my stories now.” With their faces this close, Loki witnessed the unfazed expression of the other. Blurry, grey eyes looked at him straight and yet did not see him at all. The feeling was unsettling.

“Why are you here, my Lord?” The question was squeezed out with his last breaths of air and yet not moved by any excitement. The unsettling feeling in Loki’s stomach grew. The fact, that he couldn’t read the meaning of this words in that neutral mask of a face before him was aggravating . Eventually, he loosened his grip around the bards neck. The man started coughing and sucking for air. However, Loki did not remove his hands from the sensitive spot yet.

“What do you imply?”, he growled. After a few more seconds to catch his breath, the bard continued with a strained voice.

“Excuse me, my Lord, but I couldn’t help marveling after I met a man who claims to be the great Loki Odinsson. As happy as that encounter made me, providing me the chance to show my gratitude, I wonder about the circumstances. How did such a mighty figure end up in a bandits den? To be fair, these bandits are above average. Still, for them to easily take the trickster god hostage seems like an insult to the one in question. An Explanation could be that you are simply an imposter.”

“How dare you.” Loki felt his hands tighten against the fragile flesh again.

“But”, the bard continued “I have no way to prove you wrong, so I’ll take the way you proudly presented yourself as the Allfather’s son before me as truth. Moving on, the only plausible explanation would be, that landing here was part of your plan. Fight the enemy from the inside, using your magic powers for a surprise attack. But then you would have long been on your way. Oh! But maybe you saw defenseless me and had the heroic ache to save me, too. You would’ve woken me, explained the situation and off we go. Applause and end of story. But I woke up on my own, though. So you were not in a hurry and had the virtue to let me sleep. How generous can a person be? But ever since, all you’ve done was throwing a temper and mentioning nothing of the sort of phrases I imagined. ‘Don’t worry, my brother will get us’ or ‘We’ll wait until dawn and leave’. The only reason I can think of why someone would stay in an unpleasant situation, is that they don’t have a way out. But that, of course, is only what this puny, cowardly fool could think of. ”

The bard stopped talking as Loki’s hands clenched around his neck. The ominous aura he had build up during his speech contrasted the most calm smile. “Enlighten me.. why.. are you here…my Lord?”, he pressed without much drama between his last breaths of air, before he lost consciousness. The body dropped to the floor with a flop when Loki released his hands. Fierce knocks on the wood caught his attention.

“Hey! Asen Royalty! Don’t kill off that flimsy bard. We can only sell him for a high price if he’s alive.” He looked down at the tacky dressed figure.

“Why bother?”, he asked.

“Because a dead man’s hair ain’t growing!” Laughter followed suit. “But you should worry about your own fate, little Prince. Once we’ve delivered you, you will find your own personal hell.”

He didn’t even bother to answer them. Instead he kneed before the man on the ground. He was still breathing. What about his hair? Only now did Loki realize that the monstrous hat did not allow a single strand to be seen. When he attempted to pull it off, it also turned out to fit quite tightly. He threw the damned thing away and glimpsed at the alleged treasure.

He couldn’t deny the impact left on him. Even in this dim hole, surrounded by darkness, the hair of that man seemed to emit a soft glow. Never had he seen such a rich, silvery color on anybody’s head. It was like a well polished blade. Before he realized it, he had put his hand on the short strands. They were sweaty on the outer rim, but fluffy on top. For a second, an image of a beautiful woman adorned with fully grown out hair of such color flickered through his imagination. It really seemed like a waste on someone like this. Though as annoying as he was, in the end, he had Loki pretty well figured out. Apparently, there was a little more to this guy under that outrageous appearance. The question was, whether he would be any useful in getting out of here.

“So you take the carrot and stick approach, my Lord?” Loki immediately retreated.

“I just wanted to confirm why the guards stopped me from killing you.” He couldn’t believe he had kept patting this man’s head unconsciously. He really needed to get rid of him when they got out of here.

“I see. Well you, too, seem to be entranced by the treasure you’ve found.” The skáld's voice was still hoarse. He grabbed his hat and put it on again, tucking away every loose silver string rigorously. Afterwards, he straightened his clothes and seemed satisfied when he was all put together again.

“Certainly a color I’ve never seen before.”

“A great compliment to receive from a god. But let’s not digress from our previous conversation. You know, the one we had before you strangled me unconscious. Don’t worry about that by the way, I am not really a resentful guy. Now…Why are you still here, Loki Odinsson?” Loki observed the other man. Both of his arms where just hanging down his sides, he stood straight and with his blind eyes mildly gazing off into nothing and that blasted smile, his body language gave away none of his thoughts. He started to detest this neutral vibe of his.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Well, as I’ve told you, I pretty much got the gist of it already. I’ve come to understand that you are a proud man. Thus, I wanted to give you the chance to explain it yourself and not have me figure you out.”

“What happened to your flowery speech patterns from before?”

“My Lord made it clear that he disliked those, so I got rid of them. As you suggested, people of my kind can change their style accordingly. So, are you going to tell me?” Loki couldn’t tell if the cheerful bard or the sarcastic bard annoyed him more. Oh well. He would just have him beheaded as planned, thus nothing he said now mattered. He would reunite with Thor, retreat from the mission for now to get back to Asgard and demand his powers back, and then return to complete it successfully. And while he was at it, he would come to find this bard, get him from wherever he would be performing and have him judged and killed. It was all so easy, once he got out of here.

“My mother, Frigga, is a powerful magician herself.”

“She taught you, supposedly.”

“You know a lot. Yes, she did. I’d like to say that I have come to surpass her on some levels, but she is still a force to be reckoned with. She got mad at me for a little trick I played and banned my magic power temporarily to teach me a lesson. That is how I ended up here.” There was a little snort with laughter. Loki felt his cheeks flushing red. “Why you..” and in that instant the bards laughter erupted uncontrollably. It took some time to subside.

“So sorry, my Lord. I expected you to have lost your power, but not for such a mundane reason. Oh, the songs and poems I could write about this!”

“I dare you! I will cut your throat personally before you can utter one note.”

“Yes yes, before or after you have me beheaded about five times in a row?”

“I really can’t stand your company.”

“And I seem to walk a thin line between life and death in yours. Apparently, this is the perfect moment to talk about our great escape, hm?”

“Don’t make it sound like you will do any part in this. What could a blind do? I’ll have to drag you along and I’m only considering the idea, to walk you to the executioner’s block afterwards.”

“Those terms of condition seem fine to me.”

“You think I’m kidding? Or that you can escape me later?”

“Oh no, nothing of the sort, I assure you. Though you don’t believe me, as stated, I am obliged to the royal family of Asgard and would accept their judgment.” The stupid grin was finally gone from the bards expression and he seemed honest for the first time there. Loki sighed.

“As I understood, you will be sold to someone interested in your exotic appearance. They’ll probably cater to you like a rare flower. Surely, a price will be attached to that treatment, but it doesn’t seem too bad a life in comparison, especially with a condition like yours. So why not just stay here?” Suddenly, the bard raised both his arms, and when his left hand touched Loki’s tunic at his back, he held onto that.

“Could you turn us so we face each other, my Lord?” Surprised, he wanted to jerk away, but the bard held on tightly.

“You…!”

“I’m begging you. Please.” Loki stopped and looked over his shoulder. The bards head hung low. What kind of expression was on that face? A part of him wanted to know.

“Say it again.” He knew it to be a childish demand, but could not leave that side of him. “Three times.” He expected a sarcastic retort.

“I’m begging you. I’m begging you. I’m begging you.” The god turned around and placed himself in front of the bard. There really must be only a tiny body under those wide and loose clothes. He put a finger under his chin and raised his head to the right angle for their eyes to meet.

“Are we set?”, the other asked.

“Yes.” The first real expression he saw of the skáld was a scolding frown. His eyes looked at him straight. A small chill ran down his spine. “You’re really a cruel prince, suggesting such a long, painful death to me in a fit of pity. And right after offering me a much more dignified choice. That’s where your mockery should find its limits!” He walked a few steps until his hand touched one of the walls and sat down. “Come now. Let’s talk about how to get out of here.”


	2. No Shame to Cry Over a Little Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and the skáld try to escape the bandits den and face some obstacles. What happens when they're finally back to breath in the fresh air?

Loki followed him, but didn’t sit down.  
“You’re set on this. And you even sound like you have a plan. Let me guess, I’ll break the door, beat up the guards and sneak us out of here, with you at my tail.”  
“That would be unwise. The guards would alarm every man in this cave immediately. They have a system of bells installed all over the place. I reckon you are a good fighter to easily outdo 3-5 of them unarmed, but not the entire troupe.”  
“How can you have such intel on an alarm system ? Did you see it when they brought you in?”  
“No”, the other ignored his jab “I heard it. Several times already. Remember? I’ve been here for a while now before you came. A loud ring of several bells echoing through the tunnels often accompanied by many footsteps and excited shouting. I think I don’t have to pan out the sound-backdrop to you any further to convince you of the existence of an alarm-system.” That was a good argument. He had to admit that he had underrated the amount of information a blind person could gather about his surroundings.  
“So a head on attack won’t get us anywhere. Should we lure them into our cell then, perhaps under some sort of pretense?”  
“The risque is still too great only one of them will come in. They could still get to the alarm one way or another.”  
“Right. I’m guessing there are at least two guards assigned to us right now.”  
“There is a total of four people in the area close by our cell door.”  
“How do you..”  
“I can hear them, too. You’re really underestimating my abilities. Did that never got you into trouble as a warrior?” He grit his teeth. The bard had uttered the question with a worried tone.  
“I’m normally praised as a gifted mind on the battlefield.”  
“Huh. You did not lost that, too, alongside your powers, did you?”  
“Certainly not. I just did not have a strategic meeting with a blind man, yet.”  
“I guess there are still many firsts out there for anybody, even a god”, the bard chuckled, before he came back to business. “I do indeed have a plan to get us out of first this cell and second this den itself. I won’t be your damsel in distress here. We’ll both have to work together to make this work.”  
“What sort of help can you offer?”, Loki asked, a little less opposing.  
“For once, I can take out the guards from within this cell.”  
“How so?”  
“My Lord will see it soon.”  
“You are confident in your abilities”, Loki observed.  
“Very much so, yes.” He decided to give it a rest.  
“Alright. What else?”  
“I will find the way out of this den. As you may have come to believe, my other senses are quite enhanced to compensate my failing vision. The feel and smell of the air, it’s sound - I can work with those. “  
“And I will walk us there, maybe fighting one or two hoodlums on the way, if we encounter them.”  
“Precisely.” He glanced down to the bard who just stared ahead, waiting patiently for his answer.  
“I agree”, he said after some time.  
“Wonderful!” The Bard stood up again and held out a lonely hand. Loki looked at it in disdain. The hand slid down again and the bard sighed audibly.  
“I look forward to working with you, your Highness. Now I need you to cover your ears so that no sound may reach them.” He looked at the Bard in bewilderment, but eventually complied by covering his ears.  
“I’m being serious here. Really clog them for good, okay? And don’t even think about being tempted to eavesdrop for a second.”  
“I get it. What are you planning? Singing them a lullaby?”  
“Exactly. Now put those fingers in your ears and don’t remove them until you see me close my mouth.” The demanding tone annoyed Loki, but he complied anyway. A lullaby? Seriously? Was that Bard fooling around again? He watched him closely. He really started singing. From the motions of his mouth, it appeared to be a mellow tune. That was it? The great escape plan turned out to be a stupid bard, singing bandits to sleep with a lullaby. Maybe he became delusional and started to confuse his tales with reality. Only in a skáld's story could such a thing really work. But that was fiction and this was reality. The most frustrating point was, that he had put some trust into this fool. That he didn’t see this coming and had instead wasted his time relying on this guy. With a sigh, he thought to give up the ridiculous pose he made with his fingers stuck in his ears. That’s when he noticed the change in the air. There was a soft wind that carried distant voices, familiar smells and an overall aura of content. Once, on the rare occasions of snow in Asgard, he had been in the palace gardens with his mother, Frigga. The freezing air felt electrifying and brought forth an excited pulse on his skin. Everything was clear that day. There was no distraction – neither from his annoying brother or his distant father. Just him and his mother spending this pleasant day outside. He was still young back then. How many centuries had it been ever since? He couldn’t believe he had forgotten such a precious memory. As they passed a frozen pond and Loki got fascinated with the accurate reflections on the ice’s surface, his mother told him about magic. How it…  
“Get a grip, your Majesty!” Abruptly, the scene was gone and the flood of all his other emotions returning to his mind at once left him dazed. Outrage surfaced. Who dared to rob him of this dream? A hand pressed on his mouth before he could utter any complaint.  
“Not now, my Lord!”, a harsh voice hushed. Coming back to his senses, he recognized the bard next to him. The frills on the hemline of his shirtsleeves tickled his face. He slapped the offender off and put a leery eye on him.  
“What was that?”, he hissed.  
“A lullaby”, the bard replied simply and got back on his feet. Only then did Loki register that he was sitting as well. Since when? “Didn’t I warn you not to release your ears until I finished singing? When I did, you were not close by and didn’t respond to my calls. I had to search for you and found you on the floor. Shaking and shouting finally got you back. We were lucky your mind hadn’t wandered off too far, yet.”  
“There is no way a simple song could… I mean, how did you do that?”  
“Oh!”, the bard clapped his hands. “Have I peaked your interest with my dandy arts, my Lord? I am flattered!” How he hated the chuckling fool. “We can have an extended chit-chat once we get out of here. I reckon for you to get rid of the obstacle blocking our way so that we may proceed as planned.”  
“And you are sure the guards outside are out cold?” He stood up and went to inspect the wall plastered together out of several wood planks. Moving it would be difficult.  
“My Lord”, the fool chided. “You yourself needed some serious shaking to come to. And you were prepared for what was to come.” Still in slight doubt, Loki stemmed his hands against the wooden barricade and started to push. At first, the obstacle wouldn’t budge an inch, but after a few more tries, wood cracked and the thing fell flat down on the other side with a loud crash. Loki broke out quite a sweat and caught his ragged breath. After all, opposed to his brother, brute strength was not his forte. The bard spent mild applause.  
“Astonishing! If I remember correctly, the bandits needed at least three people to move that object!” For a second his breast swell prideful from the praise, until he reminded himself that they were just hollow words. It made him remember the flattery of all the prestigious men and women from the upper class, visiting the palace frequently on some pretense.  
“Physical strength doesn’t make a god”, he stated.  
“Wise words”, the bard commented. Something bugged Loki.  
“How long have you been here exactly to make that observation with the door?”  
“Well it is hard to keep track of a feeling of time in here, but I would guess five to six weeks. I said hello and good bye to four other cell mates in the meantime. “  
“Why did they keep you for so long?”, the god asked.  
“They had to literally wait for my hair to grow out to prove I was worth selling for a high price”, the bard shrugged. “I was bald when they caught me. Someone possibly gave them the information about my hair. I try to shave it all the time to avoid the unwanted attention, but it is not always easy to maintain that when you’re traveling.”  
“Unlucky for you”, the god commented. He looked around. A torch spend a radius of light that relieved his strained eyes from the darkness. Under the light, he saw two slumped men, sleeping soundly. Down the alley, he could make out two more figures, hunched over. Close to the first man, a rope dangled in mid air. Following it, he noticed an installment under the roof that led all the way down the hall. Bells were aligned on the rope in periodical distance. Squatting down, he took a closer look at the bandit. A content smile stretched over his face. The picture of the snow covered garden of the palace and his mother recurred in his head. A lullaby that forced people into a state of utmost inner peace. What a paradox. “My Lord?”  
The bard carefully made his way out of the former prison, one hand against the wall. “I hope you observe that I stayed true to my words. Now I’d like for you to do the same.” He reached out one of his hands. “A god never betrays his words”, he walked over to the blind. “But I won’t hold your hand all this time.” He took the extended hand and put it to his tunic. “Instead, you will hold onto this.” It was the slightly better out of worse choices. The idea to hold another man’s hand like little children was unbearable. “Thank you”, the imp smiled. Really a weird fellow.  
“Never mind. Just lead the way.”  
“Yes. Please just walk straight for now.” He went ahead and immediately, his escort staggered. “Please, slow down, my Prince. I have to get used to your steps at first. Any rash movements will throw me off.”  
“And here I thought you convenient company for a second”, Loki sighed.  
“Everyone has their disadvantages”, the bard simply replied without any malice.  
“I’ll start now”, the god of tricksters announced. Paying so much attention to every little action was a new experience. “Please do.” Compared to the bumpy start, they soon found a suitable pace. Loki noted that the bard was quick to adapt to his step after a while and would always sync with him. Like that, against the god’s fear, they progressed swiftly. The instructions for direction came somewhat spontaneously. Sometimes, he stopped suddenly and they waited for seconds, just to start moving again. It really made Loki wonder how the blind was able to deduce these things, meters away from the actual turn. He even tried to pay attention to ‘the smell of the air’ or ‘the sound of the wind’ himself. Except for a clear absence of fresh air and the occasional howling, he noted no significant signs. Another detail he observed was the serious silence that had fallen over his companion. He didn’t know the other man long, but still rated this behavior unusual. If it wasn’t for the constant tug on his clothes, the god might have even forgotten the others presence. When the tug turned into a sudden yank, he startled. “Voices”, the bard said as a matter of fact. Loki strained his ears but could not hear them. “How far?”  
“Enough so they can’t hear us. If they continue with that pace, I’ll guess they’ll be here in two minutes. How shall we proceed?”  
“How many are there?”  
“I’ve heard two distinct voices.”  
“Can’t you figure out their exact number? Like, by their footsteps?”  
“Not within this range. When they are around 150 meters from us, I guess.” Loki's mind ran feverishly. There wasn’t enough time for a plan. “Come!” The bard gasped when Loki pulled him along the way they just came. “Let’s run back to the last turn and think of a plan.” They made it back to the last split and hid in the entrance of the other tunnel. Loki had used the time to form a plan. “Do you hear anything?”  
“…No”, the bard answered after a few considerate seconds. “Tell me as soon as you do.” A quick nod. “We will lie in ambush here. That gives us a little advantage.” He looked around. “However, they probably outnumber us and we don’t want them to use the alarm under any costs. I need you to do two…”  
“I hear them. A third voice, too.”  
“Alright. You need to do two things. I’ll lead you to the rope for the alarm. Guard it to your best efforts. Second, give me a sign as soon as you can determine their exact numbers.”  
“Understood.”  
He led the blind to the rope and positioned himself directly behind the turn, hidden in the shadows. The only things they couldn’t help were screams for help or the echoes from the fight. Loki hoped they could keep those at bay. The bard was crouching, one ear to the floor. He also had grabbed a relatively big stone. He was a blind bard, but no fool, that much Loki started to accept. The other man raised his fist and slowly started to count to five with his fingers. Five opponents. That would be tricky without weapons or magic. He copied the bard and grabbed a stone. Said was back on his feet, blocking the rope with his body. The bandits would spot him first, which wasn’t too bad. Seeing such a not imposing figure might lull them into a false sense of security. The decoy tensed up and soon, his ears picked up on the footsteps, too. His heartbeat kept rising with the tension until it reached a climax. A voice spoke.  
“Look! That ridiculous hat! It’s the bard we took prisoner. He escaped somehow.”  
Loki crashed the stone on the head of the last man passing him to make sure none would escape. The bandit was out cold immediately. While the others turned around in surprise, Loki grabbed the next bandit and smashed his head against the stone wall. Motionless, he stayed on the floor. Confusion and panic worked in his favor. He faced two other men, fumbling to draw their weapons. Loki sent one of them flying with a punch and kick combo. Meanwhile, the other managed to draw his sword and lashed out.  
“Damn you!” Loki swiftly escaped the attack and grabbed the sword arm of his enemy. With a few moves, he had the arm dislocated and the man wince in pain. Now he could easily throw him off balance and knocked him unconscious on the ground.  
“Stop right there!”  
The last bandit on his feet held the bard tight in his arm, a knife to his throat. A gaping wound on his forehead showed he had faced resistance. “One step and I’ll slit this guys throat!”  
“Okay”, Loki raised his hands slowly. The other man seemed frantic.  
“Shut up!”, he screamed.  
“Pardon?”, Loki asked confused.  
“Not you! The damned skáld!” Only now did Loki realize the slightest movements on the bard's lips, though no sound could be detected. “He’s been doing it for all this time! That voice in my head… make it stop!” The knife tore through flesh and blood started gushing out. Loki did a step, but the bandit only pressed the blade deeper into the skin. The bard flinched, but continued his mumbles that swelled and filled the air. Loki felt magic lingering all around them now. The hair on his arms stood up and he realized terror creeping up his spine.  
“Please stop…”, the bandits desperate begs felt distant. The knife moved away from its threatening position. Instead, it wandered to its wielders chest. Loki jolted when the man stabbed himself, not only once but several times until he dropped to the floor. For some time, he could just look at the bloody body in shock, before he forced his attention back to the bard. He leaned his back against the wall, breathing heavily while he pressed one hand on his wound. With a few steps, the god was by his side.  
“How did…”  
“Not now”, the man interrupted him harshly. “We need to get away first.” Talking clearly caused him a lot of agony. He ripped one of his sleeves off and tied the fabric around his neck. Red stains covered the white linen. He held out one hand demanding another.  
“Guide me.”  
Loki took it without thinking twice. After he obtained a sword and knife from one of the unconscious , they left. The bard wasn’t able to match their steps this time and staggered heavily. Eventually, Loki put his free arm around his waist to support the blind more. He felt rips and bones under the baggy clothes. Just like he had guessed. They walked aimlessly for some time when the bard suddenly took a deep sniff.  
“We’re close to the exit.”  
And really, soon after the next turn, Loki could see daylight brightening the stone walls. Two guards stood by the entrance, but equipped with weapons, annihilating them posed no struggle. It was done silent and swift.  
“Finally out of that damned den!”, he exclaimed and greedily took some refreshing breaths.  
“Indeed”, the bard agreed.  
In the meantime, he had regained some spirit, though his face was still sweaty and pale. They were in the middle of the woods, a giant rock face in their backs. The euphoria subsided quickly. Loki thought about his options from here on. There was a sweaty palm in his hand. He let it go. No promise tied him to this man’s company any longer.  
“My Lord?”, the skáld called out when Loki started walking away. He didn’t answer. Something inside of him felt relieved. One last time, he looked back at the ragged figure.  
“What about my punishment, my Lord? Beheading me five times in a row? Remember? You swore!”  
The bards frantic voice broke into a serious cough, blood spilling from his mouth. The god turned from the sight and left. That is the end of our story, he thought to himself. Tell it, if you live long enough to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Appendix:
> 
> skáld -  
> A skáld is sort of the scandinavian fantasy stereotype equivalent for the european fantasy stereotype of bards. Of course, historically, they had different performance styles, topics and their heyday (acc. to the sources left behind) in different eras and couldn't be compared at all... buuut I'm giving myself the freedom to use these as synonyms when the narrator/ characters refer to my OC anyway. Otherwise, I'd be repeating the same word over and over again for a while since Loki interrupted my poor OC's introduction. They both travel, they sing, they tell stories/ news - that's enough of an overlap for me. Please don't throw stones at me, History PhDs.
> 
> Vanaheimr -  
> Located somewhere between Midgard and Asgard (YOU try making out that weird map on Wikipedia where Helheim looks like a ridiculously small popsicle sticking out of Jotunheim upside down) it is the home of the Vanir - gods associated with wisdom, magic, fertility and the possibility to see the future. Freyja is probably their most popular pin-up-girl. Asgard and Vanaheimr were at war once, but with an mutual exchange of hostages, regained peace. Eventually, the pantheon of the Vanir would fuse with the pantheon of Asgard, the Aesir, and become a part of the same.


	3. Staying In Bed With My New Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finds out that he can't get rid of the skáld that easily and makes a decision.

It was early daytime. The moss covering the ground was damp, but the air felt refreshing compared to the dusty cave. Loki wandered until noon when he arrived at a small riverside. A few sips of water, and he felt reborn. As a god, his body was basically not easily affected by such needs like normal Asen, but he could still enjoy them. Scooping more water to wash his face, he noticed blood on his tunic. A wound? No, it was the handprint of the bard. The slice would only slow him down more. Even for someone of his small build, he had been too skinny. In those six weeks, the bandits must not have cared to feed him properly. Barely enough to keep him alive. The blood loss would dehydrate him sooner than later. Using magic on the bandits also seemed to have taken a toll on him. Loki frowned. Yes, looking at it from a distance, it was all so clear. The bard knew some sort of magic the god of tricks himself was unfamiliar with. No ordinary words left such an impact. It must be some ancient Vanen spells. He remembered reading about their existence, but had doubted them to be still practiced by anyone. Nonetheless, he had felt the energy of magic at work, even without his powers. His accomplishments in the field would enable him to. It was darker than his own or his mothers powers. Something about it was tinged and dreadful. He didn’t like to admit it, but deep down, this unknown force scared him. Enough to leave a blind, hurt man behind to die or be caught and sold again. Water splashed. He hit again and again, which left the river unimpressed as he just flowed on. The bard had been right! He had told him to drag his ass to Asgard and watch his head roll as many times as he pleased, and he would stay true to his words. But before that, he would torture him and let him spill all of his secrets, everything. Maybe, he would snip one of these silver locks and keep them in memoriam of the greatest fool. Yes, he took a liking to that idea. Pumped, he rose and went off in big strides. Just then, his feet clung together and he tripped face down. Dumbstruck, he looked at the bolas wrapped around his legs. Someone pressed his face down when he turned back. Many other hands appeared and did the same. Six or seven heavy men held him down and he could not move an inch. The leader stepped into his field of vision, his henchmen dragging a familiar, multi-patterned tunic along. “Found you”, he sneered.  
“How?”  
“We found this fool waiting for us sitting on our dead comrade. He offered to find you on his own account. Said he could sniff his blood on you miles away. It seems like he didn’t want to miss your company back in his cell.”  
“You…!” Loki gritted, tasting dirt.  
“Are you here, my Lord?” The question oozed cheekiness. Anger foamed in his every fiber.  
“Yes I am. And I’ll make sure to have you torn into pieces and your dead body presented all over Asgard when I get my hands on you!”  
“Really?” The other answered skeptically. “And you won’t leave me hanging like last time?”  
“I swear on my mother’s name and everything else of importance to me that I – Loki Odinsson – will drag you to Hel and give you a thorough tour as your personal guide, until you will beg of me to release you.”  
“It’s a deal then!” A satisfied smile plastered the bards face as he replied.  
“Enough chitchat!”The leader of the bandits obviously had enough of being completely ignored. Loki’s face was pressed to the ground again and he could hear a smack and the bard grunt. ‘Don’t touch him!’, the god thought furious. ‘He is mine to destroy!’  
“I agree”, the bard answered unimpressed. Another hit, but the bard continued anyway. “Thank you for bringing me to the prince. I will only need two of you now. The rest is dismissed.” What happened afterwards, Loki did not remember. For all he knew, there had been a voice that spoke to him. Nothing else.

 

‘Really’, the bard thought as his body was rocked to and fro. ‘How much trouble this prince is!’ Though it was his fault, too. He was sure to have the prince hooked. But apparently, his instincts had let him to escape. He had underestimated this royal son in that aspect. Otherwise, he had him figured out pretty well to let him dance according to his wishes. The results were the same; it had just used up more of his energy than planned. Releasing so much magic to enchant a dozen people at once – he would be wasted the upcoming days. But the prince wouldn’t leave his side this time around. The bard listened to Loki’s relaxed breath under the huffing and grunting bandits carrying the two of them through the woods. He tried to focus on the sound while sharp, numbing pain spread over his back. He could literally feel the mark expanding. There was the chance of him running out of time. But that would happen anyways. It was his decision to take this gamble, and at worse, he would go down with it. There was nothing to lose for him. And being executed multiple times did sound like a dead that would leave an impression. Maybe he, too, would become the material for other skálds to write songs about.  
Later at night, they finally reached the Inn. Pain filled every fiber of his body. Not yet, though, he had to hold onto the spell. Luckily, the simple Innkeeper was impressed enough with the tamed bandits and did not require further magic. A firm voice would do. Forkur being his name, if he remembered that correct. It had been some weeks.

“Forkur!”, he thundered as imposing as possible. “Give us a big room. You will bring supper tomorrow at noon. Do not enter earlier. And don’t tell anyone about us. Now lead the way!” He stuttered a reply and hushed inside. The bandits did not set one foot over the threshold. ‘Carry us to the Inn’, had been their last command.

“Follow that man”, the bard pressed. They obeyed. Forkur waited on the first floor with a little lamp, holding the door open.

“Leave.” He hurried away. The bandits started following him.

“Stop!”, he exclaimed annoyed.  
“Put us down on the bed inside that room.” When he felt a mattress underneath, the bard relaxed for a second, almost loosing the connection of the spell. With every bit of his mind he grasped onto it. A weight next to him exposed that they had put him and the prince into the same bed. Well, he couldn’t care less about such details now.

In a final effort, he uttered “Leave the Inn and head North until you collapse from exhaustion.”

The puppets hesitated shortly, but started moving. The bard gasped heavily. It wasn’t over yet, though. On a smaller scale, he still had to keep the connection of the spell. He prepared himself for the next hours by collecting all of his last resorts. Secretly, he hoped the bandits bodies would give in soon. Carefully, his left hand searched the other side of the bed until it hit the prince. Resting on his chest, feeling his hand sink and rise with every breath from the other man, he found a pattern he could follow. The mild heartbeat under his palm helped him seek distraction from his own suffering. The pain continually consumed his body. Around dawn, he felt the connection snap like a thin strand. He knew he had clearly overstepped his boundaries. Except for slow pumps, the impressions around him faded and the world became void.

Opening his eyes, Loki recognized the spartan decorations of the Inn he was staying at with Thor and the Warrior Three. Right, that weird dream of his abduction and the following escape with that tacky bard could not be real. Yawning, he put the small hand off his stomach and got up. Had he called for a prostitute? Glancing down, he was wide awake. The skáld! Dried blood stained his clothes around his neck. The wound from the other day. Reconstructing the events and placing them in order took him some time. He had left the blind man behind, who was caught by the bandits and then led them straight back to him instead. He swore to be his personal executioner and that oaf had agreed! Yes! He had agreed happily and then.. he must’ve performed some of his magic that brought them back to this Inn again. The god stared into thin air. Abducted twice in such a short period of time. His pride would need some time to recover. He got out of bed and left the room. Down in the small tavern of the Inn, he found the Innkeeper. The middle aged man stiffened immediately at the sight of him, almost dropping the rag in his hand.

“I did everything as ordered by Ljósi!”, he blurted out. “I did not peek into your room, lied to the bandits who came by just two hours ago and was headed to get the meal.”

Nervously, his eyes kept glancing at the god. He was very eager for an answer. A man who thought to please those he deemed of the highest ranks in power.

“Good”, Loki said. They could use this simple man’s mind to their advantage, for which the bard had obviously laid the foundation. He picked up the name the man had used, realizing he hadn’t even known it before.

“But Ljósi has ordered for me to go get the food. He doesn’t trust you and neither do I.” The other man flinched, as if the words caused him real pain.  
“You have every right. But please, let it be known that we co-operate with these bandits, because they force us. They have this area under their control for a long time and we can’t escape their grasp.”  
“What is your name?”  
“Forkur Sómisson, my Lord.”  
“So your father was an honest man? How must he feel, knowing that his son is not worthy of his heritage? Telling bandits when promising travelers arrive at his Inn to sell them out!”  
“I am ashamed of my every deed.”  
“But not enough to not fear your judgment. Why did you tell on the skáld? He’s of the travelling folks, they are not known for their vast wealth.”  
“For a while now, the bandits said to look out for anyone with light hair, no matter of what age, gender or profession. At first, I thought nothing of the skáld. He came to offer his service for a place to rest, a bath and some food. There were festivities a month ago and many reservations had been made. For a few nights he entertained us and the guests. In his drunk state, he spilled his name.”  
“Ljósi – the bright”, Loki contemplated.  
“He said his full name was Ljóskollur. Then he presented his bald head and joked how his parents must’ve had high hopes for him. He was very good at his profession. A lot of laughter filled this house that night. But the morning after, the bandits appeared out of the blue. I hadn’t recommended a good target for a while and they were angry, threatening to burn down my whole business. I panicked and appointed Ljósi. Just because of his name!” Loki could hear a nudge of guilt in Forkur’s voice. But it was overshadowed by panic and fear.  
“I’m sure that bard died in that den! It has been so long already. And now an angry god took his form to punish me for my doings!”  
Yes, Loki thought, you are in the presence of an angry god. Bags under Forkur’s eyes told the story of a night full of paranoia and angst. Suddenly, the man grabbed Loki’s clothes and kneeled before him.  
“You were the last person I appointed. The God must’ve taken you into his custody. Please, I’m begging you! Please plead my case in front of him! Explain my circumstances. I had no choice!”  
“Enough!” He tore free from the greedy fingers in disgust. “You sullied your father’s name and will be judged on your actions alone. Just tell me one thing and then be gone to get the food.”  
“My Lord!”, Forkur begged, but the god refused to look at him.  
“My travelling companions – do you know where they were headed after my disappearance?”  
“It was late when they woke from their drinking. I told them you had left early in the morning. They didn’t seem very unsettled and just spoke of a trick of yours and they would see you once more soon. So they paid and left. I haven’t seen them since.”  
“How many days has it been?”  
“Two, Sir.”  
“Now fetch the food and be out of my sight.”  
“Sir, what about…” he silenced his opposite with a single glance. Forkur swallowed his words and left for the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a tray with sets of glasses, bowls, spoons and a jug of water. Loki took it without looking at him and returned to the room. So that worm sells travelers out like animals and now that two of them have returned, he fears for his life and soul. He put the tray on a tiny table. The food looked decent enough – some sort of hotpot. The god wouldn’t need it, anyway. He walked over to the bed. The hat had slipped off to the ground. Ljóskollur – the one with bright hair. It was a perfect fit. No wonder the skáld had tried to keep that name hidden, as well as his head. The silver strands were pressed flat to the glistening skin. The bard was sweating a lot. His complexion was even paler than before, competing with his hair. Absentminded, the god pushed the strand out of the other mans forehead. He snapped out of it and felt the forehead once more. It was burning hot. That was a serious fever. Yet Ljósi did not squirm at all. Loki took his pulse and found it incredible weak. Was the bard dying? What about his execution, all the answers he planned to acquire during torture?  
“That’s not fair”, he muttered. “You agreed just to cheat me again, flimsy skáld.” Anger and frustration took the better of him.  
“Wake up!”, he shouted and shook the lifeless man, but stopped when he realized the fragility of the figure in his hands. Right! Malnutrition! He had guessed about that. Lifting his tunic, he could count rips and the hollow stomach practically turned him into a stick. Malnutrition, exhaustion and blood loss. This body had reached its limits. Loki’s thoughts ran anxiously. He had no magic to heal and couldn’t call Heimdall like his brother to bring the weak back to Asgard for treatment. He could only tend to him right here. Maybe Thor would come back to the Inn when they found that Loki did not return to them. How low he had fallen. But he pushed his pride aside. For now, his objective was to keep this bard alive under all circumstances. First off, he tried to feed him some food, but realized soon that his patient would rather choke on it than swallow properly. So next he tried it with water, which worked better. After three cups, he thought it enough for a start. What else? The god realized he had no experience in tending to a person without the use of magic. How would someone from midgard deal with this? He tugged Ljósi under the sheets properly, which he double folded for additional warmth. It would also not hurt to clean and change the dirty bandages on his wound. He asked Forkur for the supplies and he complied, even adding a salve he praised as very effective. Other than that, the innkeeper did not insist on his redemption like before. Using the basin supposed for a small wash, Loki cleaned the dried blood from the wound and applied the salve, finishing his work with a fresh bandage. Even the bards neck appeared slender and added to his feminine appearance. During his work, the god spotted the outlines of another scar on the bottom of his neck. It stretched beyond the hemline of his frilly collar. Well, this man left the impression of a magnet for trouble. Finished with that task as well, Loki pondered what else to do. He put a wet cloth on the burning forehead to cool the fever. Eventually, he lay down next to him and listened to the weak breath. Was that all? Without his magic, he felt really powerless in this situation. After lying still for a while, he recalled a detail from the time he woke up. As he was running out of ideas, he gave it a shot. Carefully, he took the skalds hand and pressed it against his chest. He was in doubt whether this really made a difference for the unconscious. He had read about some people seeking comfort in the heartbeat of another. Against all odds, he observed that holding this hand soothed his own frustration. It was nice, warm and made him feel less powerless. Like that, he fell to slumber.

Pain woke him. Had it even been an hour? Nails dug deep into his skin. Ljósi was hyperventilating next to him, arching his back up in agony. Loki pinned him down.  
“It’s alright”, he whispered.“Calm down. You’re safe.” He tried his best to coat his voice in soothing tones. The skálds head kept tearing from left to right, blind eyes manically wandering around. Still hunching over the cramping figure, Loki held him down to stop his rigid moves. After a while the attack ebbed. Ljósi’s eyes stopped flailing and fixed on the ceiling. More seconds passed before he spoke, hoarse, but intelligible.  
“Food… did he bring it?”  
“Food? Yes. Yes, there is some.” Loki hurried to the table and filled one of the bowls with the still steaming hotpot. Meanwhile, Ljósi brought himself into an upright position, though that act alone seemed to have cost him all his stamina.  
“Feed me”, he said panting.  
“What?”, the god couldn’t help that clumsy respond. The mere thought of him performing the profane act of feeding someone was absolute nonsense to him. It was unthinkable.  
“My body is weak, I can’t lift a finger. I need to take in the energy before I fall asleep again or I’ll probably die this time”, the skáld explained to him winded yet calmly as a matter of fact.  
“I’m sure Forkur wil be pleased to do you this service to atone for his sin.” A snicker escaped the bard’s throat but ended in a long cough that was enriched with little blood.  
“That weasel? He’s only not reselling us to the bandits because he fears me more than them right now. Let him see me in this state and he will trim his sails to the wind. “  
“I am a god of Asgard. He should fear me”, Loki muttered. Ljósi smiled amused and it almost brought a healthy shade to his face.  
“A god without powers, a weapon or companions and a crippled skàld. What a terrifying pair we make.” Loki wanted to snap back at Ljósi, but the other man started cramping with pain again. He let out grunts that swelled in volume until they turned into sheer screams. In a panic, Loki pressed his hands over the man’s mouth to silence him. A knock on the door followed suit.  
“Is everything alright?” Forkur asked. Beyond his fear was an ounce of skepticism.  
“No, the skáld just woke up and I told him that you sold him out. He didn’t take it very well. You better not show your face to him until we leave tomorrow.” He shared a look with Ljósi who nodded and he released his hand for seconds. He let out his cries, but managed to give them an angry nuance. The god muffled him again and directed back at the door. “I am restraining him right now. The food will calm him down. You should be as far from this room as possible. He says he feels your presence from meters and it unsettles him.”  
“We don’t want that”, Forkur failed not to squeal. “Have a good rest until you leave tomorrow. I’ll excuse myself.”  
Fast steps stomped down the stairs. Loki did not release the bard until his muscles actually stopped contracting. He fell back into his pillow sweating, eyes and nose running frenziedly.  
“Screw the Norns, screw Urd and Skuld and the whole bunch! May dogs couple on their graves! I’m going to swim over icy Gjöll myself, the knives may pierce me, while others wait in line to cross the bridge. I’ll spring into Hel’s arms soon enough, no need to fret, sheepheads!”  
Loki looked stunned while he listened to the skáld’s passionate outbursts in hearty swears that became less bloomy and elaborate as he went on and lastly only consisted of “Damn, shit, damn”. After a minute or so he was done.  
“That was impressive”, the god of mischief admitted. Ljósi took the compliment with a weak nod. It seemed to have relieved him of some pain and agony, as a good swearing does.  
“But also rather inappropriate in the presence of a god”, he scolded at last.  
“You’re welcome to use some of those, if you want.” The bard said as smug as possible in his state.  
“I’ve already taken mental notes.” Loki got up from the bed to fetch a bowl with hotpot and returned to settle at Ljósi’s side. The other man raised an eyebrow.  
“What changed your mind?”  
“The realization that you were right about Forkur. And now that I’ve set a deadline by saying we’re leaving tomorrow, I better make sure I don’t have to carry you out of here.” Ljósi nodded slowly and took the first spoon of food. A content sigh escaped him and he quickly turned his head to avoid eye contact while he chewed carefully.  
“It’s been a while”, he stated simply.“I mean, real food, that is. It’s quite the bliss.” A stone formed in his stomach when Loki thought about that and he didn’t give any snotty retort but continued to silently spoon-feed the skáld. He finished two and a half bowls before refusing to continue.

“Thanks for the food.”  
“You’re welcome”, the god replied automatically. The bard shifted his position and lay down again.  
“Now I just feel so tired”, he yawned. “Say what you have to say before I fall asleep.”  
“Whatever could you mean?”, Loki asked surprised. Ljósi hinted to roll his eyes, too drained to put real effort into the expression.  
“A plan, Silly, for the next day and those to come. I think I made it clear more than once that I will stick with you to get my sweet punishment as promised.”  
“You’re really stuck on that, huh?”  
“Of course. I told you it would be my honor. With your help, I was able to escape a boring death of old age as pretty pet of some noble. My life belongs to you.”  
“What if I decide to do exactly the same to you? I could use a new pet.”  
“I trust that it wouldn’t be boring with you as my master.”  
“Certainly not, you’re right. I would make sure of that personally.” The trickster grinned as his head filled with dark fantasies.  
“Wonderful”, the skáld sighed sleepily. Loki returned from his daydream.  
“Alright. You may accompany me back to Asgard. Tomorrow we will set out to reunite with my brother and the warrior three, whom I was travelling with. He can call on Heimdall to bring us there. I will reclaim my powers from Frigga and park you in the dungeons. Once I’ve returned from our mission again, we’ll have plenty of time to play.”  
“Very.. well.” Loki was all caught up in his scheming that he did not realize the body next to him succumbing to slumber. When he did, the other had already started snoring a little.

“What foul manners for a pet”, he scuffed. But he would correct that once they were back in Asgard and he had time to pay his full attention to educating this cocky bird. That prospect made him forget all the trouble he’s had to face with the removal of his powers and this mission. Instead, he now had something to look forward to that kept him motivated. Satisfied, he lay down next to his new possession and took one of those small rough hands in his again. Yes, everything hadn’t been in vain since he obtained such a nice toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Appendix:
> 
> Names:
> 
> Ljóskollur - Light thatch, Blonde thatch  
> Ljósi - The Bright  
> Sómi - The Honest, The Worthy  
> Forkur (Sómisson) - The Efficient  
> The Norns - A collective group of female beings, from which three stand out as the 'main' Norns. They are said to rule over the destiny of gods and people,  
> since they twine the string of fate. They also tend to the Yggdrasil tree by pouring water and sand to its roots. Urd (Urðr), Skuld and Völuspá  
> are the names of the three main Norns. 
> 
> Places:
> 
> Hel(heim) - The nordic Underworld, ruled by Hel  
> Gjöll - The River parting the world of the living from the land of the death. Thus it flows closest to the underworld. It waters are said to be icy and full of  
> knives flowing up- and downstream. According to mythology, the dead must cross the river to get to Hel. A bridge called Gjallarbrú is the only  
> junction, protected by the female guardian Móðguðr


	4. Staying In Bed With My New Pet 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Situation from a different point of view

Naturally, he had learned a lot about the worlds blind people experience now that he was among them. A world he had been oblivious to before. Being blind was by no means equal to walking through a pitch black room, how many seeing folks would simplify the matter within their ideas of conception. First of all, if present, the light always shined through, creating layers of thick and thinner ‘lightness’. Actual, complete darkness was a myth and he had not yet encountered it. Quite contrary, he sometimes wished to get rid of the obscuring, bright lights disturbing his concentration to focus on his other senses.  
Then there were the sensations from the skin. How much information they could offer if one paid attention – temperature, flooring, furniture, fabrics, materials.  
Noises had come as a big surprise to him as well. Since he had started to listen to the world, he had found that silence was a fantastic expression for something that factually didn’t exist.  
There were always sounds. If one heard nothing, it meant they didn’t try hard enough or it was out of their capability. By now, Ljósi was convinced that even the progress of a tree growing made a sound, so feeble his ears couldn’t pick it up. But a bug living under the bark might wish to move to another, more quiet home if he had the misfortune to live with a fast growing specimen.  
And who could forget smells? They told stories of their own, giving every impression an individual feel and really enriching the whole picture.  
Based on all of these parts, the world of a blind was very vivid and only the abilities of his imagination, his feeling for details and his general willingness to perceive his world were hurdles to take – the same as for seeing people. The Eyes had nothing to do with it. If a pessimist didn’t want to see the flowers by the roadside, he also wouldn’t smell them if he was blind. That was that.  
One disadvantage, however, was undeniable and it was time. The eyes were a lazy quick travel option for the brain to perceive its surroundings on a superficial level. The other routes lead to similar and even more detailed conclusions, but they were longer and more demanding for the lethargic, eye-spoiled brain. And within that timeframe - when a blind worked his way along those routes - his world was indeed a hazy and scary place.

Ljósi woke up. He hurt, not an unfamiliarity to him. What he did not get accustomed to since he lost his sight was the lack of quick orientation after waking up. As always, panic rose fast in him, but he learned to regain control faster with every session of unavoidable practice. Still, he doubted there would come a day when it would fade forever. He could just hope to get into good shape and maybe beat his personal best time to time.  
Taking counted breaths, he tried to focus his other senses. First he checked for any familiar signs indicating he was back in that house. Once that was ticked off his list, he relaxed a bunch. Rule number one: Doesn’t matter where I wake up, as long as it’s not back in that house.  
Afterwards he normally remembered where he fell asleep the night prior and where he thus logically should be right now, if the best possible scenario was true. So he matched the conditions of his memory with the current and checked for any differences.  
First came self-preservation. He was tired, hurt like crazy and a major headache was the cherry on his pie of pain. But there was no longer dried blood on his neck. Instead he smelled herbs. His wound had been treated. At least something. And there was another weird feeling in his stomach. Digestion! For a second he had feared it to be some sort of sickness. He could use that as an anecdote for an audience that fancied good dark humor. He took a mental note. The mark was still source of major pain and itch, but it didn’t seem to spread any further. He would have to get a good glance at its progress once he got the chance.  
Second were the surroundings. He felt the same mediocre mattress and linen of the blanket the Inn provided for all their rooms. The room was stuffy, but still an oasis compared to the cave. A small rest of the hotpot’s smell hung in the air. And there was his own sweaty stench, penetrating his nose and confirming his miserable state. He would kill for a bath.  
Locating the God was not difficult. His heart beat steadily underneath his palm. He had sought comfort in this sensation during the long hours waiting to be able to disperse the spell. His Grandmother had showed him this trick and he connected it with her calm and soothing aura since. It had been a long time since he shared this pleasant technique with anyone. The first time of course, the God couldn’t refuse him because he was affected by his spell. But this time he must have taken the initiative on his free will. Why should he, though? His hands lay flat on his, pressing it gently to his sinking and rising chest.  
No, he must not concern himself with such useless thoughts. It was a good sign, it proofed that he had the prince on his hook. He would not abandon him again. And he had sworn to bring him back to Asgard to become his pet or torture toy or whatever. It didn’t matter. He could use his powers to flee. If the trickster somehow prevented that once his own magic returned to him, he still had his wit and his will. Those were unbending. Hel, even if he found no way out, he left Vanaheimr and that was his ultimate goal. The rest he could work out once he had crossed realms.  
Ljósi inhaled deeply and beyond his disgusting odor he sniffed the faintest note of the Gods personal note. Outside, it was similar to his with food, earth and sweat, of course far less strong. Underneath, however, was still a reminiscence of soap and that indescribable, not divisible mixture that was peculiar to every individual.  
'Loki – trickster and god of mischief. You think you have captured me and will bring me home with you as a trophy. But you don’t know that the second you arrogantly declared yourself before me, I decided to make you my ticket to Asgard. Out of here. That is the ploy you will never grasp.' Thus he waited for his toy to wake up, letting the soft thump lull him in a daze. Just a few minutes more.

“Wake up!” Loki opened his eyes. Ljósi's back was facing him, he was just about to slip his big, multi-patterned tunic over his frilly hemmed shirt. He smelled of soap and his hair was plastered to his skin, all wet.  
“How long is a god going to sleep for, if let? Years? I am the one who could use the rest!” Loki sat up and scowled at the skáld.  
“Then why didn't you rest more?” His eyes found the basin by the table set. The water was brown and the piece of cloth he had used to clean wounds hung over the chair's arm. He also longed to scrub the dirt off his body. He noticed the used dishes on the table. So Ljósi had finished the rest of the meal.  
“Where did you find the soap?”  
“I asked Forkur for it, as well as a clean cloth and fresh water. He was very eager to fulfill my every wish.”  
“I can imagine that.”  
“I also got him to fetch something else.” His index finger pointed to the far corner of the room, next to the door. A bag lay on the ground. Loki stood up and went to investigate its content. He found two flutes and – to his own surprise and joy – his journal and writing set. He had taken some short studies about the places they had visited to get a better picture of these rural, far-off areas of Vanaheimr that weren't frequented by functionaries of Asgard much. He hoped his effort would impress his father even a little. Either way, he could still use it for his own purposes. He knew the value of these bits of information.  
“Have you reunited with something of personal value?”, he heard the bard ask.  
“So to say. How did you know Forkur still held onto these things and didn't hand them to the bandits?”  
“It seemed to fit his character as a weasel that he would also try to trick the bandits. He probably gave them everything of obvious value from the abducted travelers possessions, but kept such mundane objects to himself to sell later for some extra money. I simply ordered him to fetch our stuff and he didn't even try to make any excuses and was gone.” Loki didn't think his impression of the innkeeper could sink any lower, but people surprised him time and time again.  
His eyes fell on the two wooden flutes. One was short, thin and without any ornaments. The material was battered and the wood of another color on those parts, where fingers had rubbed off over years. It looked like it had seen more than one owner. The other was longer, a little more than from finger to elbow, and thicker. A simple spiral motif in a ring adorned the bridge of the mouthpiece to the body, as well as the bottom of the body.  
“And I bet these flutes belong to you?”  
“Ah!”, he heard the skáld sigh. “I had feared only one had returned to me, since I could only hear the small one.”  
“You were able to hear the flute in this bag?” The god still couldn't believe the level of capability of Ljósi's senses.  
“Of course. Pipe instruments are seldom silent. The air blew through the flute while Forkur carried the bag, creating the faintest of tones. I admit that it was barely audible, though, even for me. The deep tones of the big flute I wasn't able to pick up. Could you fetch them for me?”  
He returned to the skáld, who was still resting on the bed, adjusting his hair under his hat.  
“Thanks”, he said, as Loki put them down on the sheets next to him. The big one proving to be a little heavier than he'd expect.  
He felt chilly. The window was wide open, inviting the icy air of the night in. He stood up to close it.  
“Stop!”, Ljósi ordered sharply. He turned on his heel.  
“How can you be so certain...?”  
“I just am, you should know by now. I need the window open to check for any late visitors we might not want to meet. “  
“The bandits? Do you think they will return soon? I thought Forkur had send them away.”  
“For now. We cannot rest assured. I planned for us to be gone before dawn.”  
“And where should we be headed?” Ljósi turned in his direction, opening his eyes.  
“You're asking me that? You tell me where your brother is headed. I wouldn't know.”  
“Oh, of course.” He looked into his journal to hide his embarrassment, ever forgetting that the bard couldn't see it.  
“I had planned for us to go to the next city. I don't know if Thor was listening to me when I explained the directions to him. I'm honestly a little surprised he hasn't returned to this Inn yet to look for me. It has been three days.”  
“Seems like you're not really missed”, the bard snickered.  
“Forkur told them a lame lie. Even my brother's walnut brain should find it fishy that I haven't returned to them after days.”  
“Maybe they were also captured by bandits?”  
“Impossible. I was captured because I am without my powers and they caught me by surprise. My brother wields Mjölnir and the Warrior Three know their way around weapons. They are not smart, but they do know how to fight for a thousand men. I highly doubt that possibility.”  
“I see. Then all we can do is head for your next goal and gather more information, correct?”  
“Yes.”  
“The nearest city from this point would be Voluspá. Was that your goal?”  
“Yes, where the Vane god Njord's sister Nist should reside.”  
“Oh, she moved her main estate away long ago. It is said that she still occasionally resides in her old mansion in Voluspá, but always on a short stay.”  
“I see. This is the only address we have at the palace.”  
“It seems you're records are outdated.”  
“Which was one of the reasons why we came here.”  
“And what was the other?” Loki looked at the skáld. His face was the plain mask again. Was this pure curiosity speaking or an interrogation? He hated this unreadable expression. Better play it safe.  
“I'll tell you that once we have met up with Thor. Because our plans might just have changed, so I need to talk to him first.” It took only few seconds before the skáld changed to his cheerful self.  
“I understand. Then, let's pack up and not waste anymore time!”  
“All my things have been taken. With this journal, I have everything I need.”  
“Oh really? That means you have time on your hands to help me pack my things.”  
“You're flutes are next to you.”  
“Yes yes, but I mean all the other things in this room that are _mine_.” The god raised an eyebrow as the bard made a big gesture with a devious grin on his face.  
“You want to steal the furniture?”  
“Stealing? I am a bard, no thief! How dare you?”, he fussed sarcastically. “When I first arrived and took the job, Forkur told me to 'make myself at home'. And I sure did until I was mysteriously taken hostage. Now that I have returned to 'my home', it is just right that I take my belongings with me before I leave once and for all.”  
“So you're a thief that talks like a skáld.” A pillow flew in his general direction but would have missed him. He made a quick step to catch it.  
“Take the case off this pillow and put it in the bag that was kindly provided for us.”  
“Are you ordering me around?”  
“Since you are not going to move on your own – yes, I am. We want to depart quickly, right? So lend me a hand.” Loki stood frozen and stared at the skáld who started to pull off the sheets from the bed. He was still very pale and huffing and puffing from the mild exercise. After a while he stopped in his motion.  
“Please”, he added . With a sigh, Loki grabbed the bag and threw the fabric inside.  
“What else?” Ljósi smiled.  
“The dishes - pot, mugs, spoons. After that you can break the legs from stool and table.”  
“What?!”  
“I'm sure you can do that, I witnessed your strength. We can use those for our next campfire.”  
“I can reach Voluspá within one day. There is no need to stop and make a campfire.”  
“Make that two days. You may be able to march there in one day, but I in my state certainly won't. So we'll see how far we come and then be happy that we don't have to look for dry branches to start a fire. It has been raining for a while before I woke you up.” Loki threw his arms in the air in a fit of anger.  
“Why do I even still bother with your company? I don't profit in anyway!” He looked at Ljósi who calmly grabbed the fabrics he had secured and stepped slowly over the floor, his feet searching for the bag. Once they found it, he squatted and started folding the fabric in a way it wouldn't take up much space.  
“I cannot speak for anyone but myself, my Lord. I accompany you for one reason: To face my judgment in Asgard, as you have ordered. I am doing that because I - as a vessel of the Aesir - accept your authority. Also, I believe that running away from you would not lead anywhere, because with the return of your powers, I am sure you would come after me fast.”  
Ljósi came back to his feet and tried to maneuver his body in Loki's direction. When he settled, he was slightly off, looking over the gods left shoulder. They waited for seconds in silence, when Ljósi let out a half sigh, half laugh.  
“There is one more reason I'd like to add, even if it is improper of me. To speak the truth, I really do enjoy your company. I have been traveling alone for the longest time. Having someone to jest with is...” His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes for focus, showing off his serious side. After a few breaths, he tilted his head a little and smiled at Loki.  
“It's refreshing.”  
As the god of tricks, he knew that no lie had been uttered in front of him. At the same time, he was well aware that the art of lying was in fact to tell the right kinds of truths while leaving others unspoken. The portrayed loyalty for the Asgardian royal house seemed to stem from a true root. That much should suffice for now.  
“I must admit, I am impressed with your repeated willingness to face whatever judgment your gods have in mind for you. I would know it if you were dishonest, but you speak from your heart. Answer me this: I reckon that you've traveled far across the lands of Vanaheimr working in your profession?”  
“Indeed, my Lord. I've been frequenting the rural areas for a good third of my lifespan now.”  
“I take it that you have a pretty accurate picture of the current state of your realm, then?”  
“Spreading legends, rumors and news in forms of poems and songs is my bread and butter.”  
“Then I have finally found a use for you. You will accompany me until I reunite with my comrades. While we are on our way, you will tell me everything you know about this lands state of affairs. “  
“Very well.”  
“I'll make you my attendee for the time being. For that, I'll need you to pledge your fealty to me and only me. Do you understand?”  
Unexpectedly, the bard bent down on one knee and bowed according to customs. It was almost a graceful gesture, if it wasn't for the dangling accessories on his hat.  
“Yes, my Lord. I have heard every of your commands and swear to consist to them from now on and for ever more.” An eery silence befell them.  
"Who was your father, Ljósi?" A movement went through the man before him. He replied without looking up.  
"Aron, my Lord." Loki affirmed this name with a nod.  
“Rise, Ljóskollur Aronsson. We will leave this forsaken place.”  
“Right, my Lord.” Ljósi waited a few seconds out of courtesy before he destroyed the mood.  
“By the way, have you taken the legs off of chair and table yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Places:  
> Voluspá (Orig. Völuspá) -  
> Not a place, but the name of a poem in the Edda, telling the visions of a seeress. Among others, she tells from the  
> war between Asen and Vanir, the events of Ragnarök and what the new world will look like.
> 
> Names:  
> Njord (Orig. Njördr)  
> A God of the Vanir, associated with the sea, seafaring, wind and fishing. He begets siblings Freyr and Freyja  
> together with his unnamed sister.  
> Nist -  
> Name I made up for Njords sister. She is described as a foggy, unclear figure/ godess, so I just altered the word  
> 'mist' a little.  
> Aron -  
> Just a plain nordic male name. No extra meaning here.


	5. A Walk in the Park, A Step in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically the chapter title. I'm getting lazy with bad rimes for titles. Although the song fits this weird story.

Loki landed on the muddy ground and reeled to keep his balance.  
“Are you alright?” His new attendants hat popped out of the window roughly four meters above him. Though it had yet to feel like he was the one attended to and not the other way around.  
“Yes. Watch out when you go down, it's quite...”  
“Okay, catch!” He grunted when the heavy bag hit his head as he was able to secure it last second. He put it down angrily, his forehead aching.  
“You come down here this instant. I'll tear your head off”, he hissed. The hat popped out again.  
“Right! Will you catch me, my Lord?”  
“You have nerves, asking that after you throw a heavy sack in my face.”  
“That wasn't on purpose! You know I can't possibly aim straight. Plus I warned you.”  
“Whatever. Get down yourself, it's not that high.”  
“I am flattered that my Lord is overestimating my abilities, but I am no god, blind, and the ground is slippery. The risk of me breaking a leg is very high, I dare say.”  
“You've got a point.”  
Loki positioned himself under the window and stretched out both of his arms.  
“Alright. Jump.” The skáld climbed onto the window slowly, ready to jump and yet not moving.  
“Are you ready, my Lord?”  
“Yes yes, I am here. Do it already.”  
“Before that, I'd like you to know a few things. I am sorry for suddenly throwing the bag at you. And making you break the legs from chair and table. And needing your help with feeding. I'm not quite sorry for guiding the bandits back to you. What I mean is – if you think about letting me hit the ground to get back at me for all those things, it wouldn't be fair since I apologized.”  
“What do you take me for? I am not that horrible of a person.” He was growing impatient. “Now jump down or I'll think twice.”  
“No, please wait! I'll do it! I'll do it, so please just wait a second!” He looked at the dark figure crouching in the window above him. Why was he taking so long? He squinted his eyes to see better. If he wasn't mistaking, the bard shivered. He clung to the wooden frame quite strongly. Could it be that he was terrified of jumping?  
“Hey, Ljósi.”  
“I know, I'm coming down! Just give me a moment, would you?”  
“Ljósi, listen to me!” They both flinched as he raised his voice a tad too loud. But at last, he had the others attention.  
“Calm down. I am here, right under the window. I'll catch you no matter what, got it? You can trust me.” A few moments of silence, before he heard the answer.  
“Alright. Here I come.” Slowly, he let go of the secure frame and in the next second, he fell down feet first. Loki's muscles tensed and he got a hold of the falling man. But the sudden impact let him loose his ground and he tumbled down, the other man landing on top of him.  
“Great”, the god groaned. They were a messy bunch lying in the mud. There was dirt all over his back, in his hands and his hair. Luckily, the skáld didn't weigh much.  
“I jumped”, he heard the other mumble.  
“Yes yes, congratulations. You did great. Now get off of me.”  
“I jumped”, Ljósi repeated without paying him any attention. “And you caught me.”  
The other mans closeness embarrassed him and he got to his feet, lending the blind a hand.  
“Your voice is croaky. Give it a rest already. You make a pathetic sight. You are my aide now, so refrain from such a display in the future.” Ljósi regained his cool and his muscles relaxed.  
“Yes, my Lord. I am sorry. It won't happen again.” He smeared his muddy hands into his loose pants.  
“Good.” Loki retrieved the bag. “Let's head to Voluspá now.”  
“Very well. It should be north from here.”  
“My records state the same. Let's avoid the main road, though. We can walk through the woods.”  
He reached out for Ljósi's hand and put it to his tunic. “It's quite muddy, so hold on tight and watch your step.” A little smile crept over the skáld's face.  
“Right, my Lord.”  
“Ready? We're moving.”

Same as when they went through the bandits den, Ljósi matched Loki's every step and adapted his pace. The woods were foggy and the ground slippery though, so they didn't proceed as fast as he had imagined. He would probably not have made it to town in one day – even without the bard tagging along to his left. Still, he should use the only advantage his company brought him.  
“Hey, skáld.”  
“My Lord?” At least he had the manner of properly addressing his master down cold.  
“You informed me that the Goddess Nist moved her main estate away from Voluspá. Have you also heard of a reason for that? If I remember correctly, the records stated that she had stayed there for long before, because she enjoyed the landscape quite a lot.”  
“Indeed. Misty weather like tonight occurs often in this region, all year round. Being the mysterious goddess that she is, Nist is quite drawn to the phenomenon. All the while, she is known as a very clever woman in the whole realm. The tale how she tricked her husband and brother Njord to settle here, in these mountains far from the sea he so preferred, is very famous and popular.”  
“What made her leave, then?”  
“People say, as shifty as she keeps her true form from being spotted, there are two things that anchor her to this – our world. My Lord ought to be more familiar with them, as I could ever wish.”  
“What are they?”, he heard himself asking, the second Ljósi left a little pause. When he caught the smile of the skáld, he realized what had been going on a little too late.  
“Freyr and Freyja, her dear children. Unlike their mother, they are very much bound to this world, more specifically the realm of Asgard, as you are well aware.”  
Loki nodded slowly. The skáld had pulled him into his story world easily, to his own dismiss. He really knew his way with words - how to narrate the audience and ask the right questions at the right time, giving and denying them openings whenever he chose to pause or not. It allowed him to determine where the story would go while letting his audience believe their impact helped guiding it to that outcome. He could see that he was a master of his craft, tricking even the gods of tricks for a while to follow his pulse. Forkur had praised his skills back then. He started to see why.  
“My Lord?”  
What a sheepish tone, feigning ignorance. He would let the skáld know, that he had been discovered. A short snort, and he could see the grin drop from his face.  
“Sorry, I had to think about that for a while.”  
Two could play at this game and he knew he had secured at least one of the reigns of this conversation back into his hand. He reminded himself to be more alert with the bard from now on.  
“It's easy to forget since they are totally integrated into the royal society in Asgard nowadays”, he continued “But originally, they came as hostages to seal the peace after the war between Vanir and Aesir when the two were still strictly divided. “  
“Integrated you say?” The bard sounded amused. “Some Vanir see them as such, still.”  
“That's ludicrous. Freyr and Freyja enjoy good lives in Asgard, there is nothing they could miss there. Freyja is even a favored marriage candidate for my brother. That should show Asgard's interest to further strengthen the bond to stay as one with the Vanir.”  
“Well, a marriage is indeed the traditional way to tie two foreign families together...” his voice trailed off for a mere wink, before he connected his statement to their previous topic.  
“Maybe it would soothe Nist's sadness to see her daughter become a wife. But until then, she grieves her children who have been torn from her. To visit them more easily, she agreed to move close to the border of Asgard. But her spirit is swoon and her shape remains unsteady, which still makes it hard for her to see them as often as she wishes. Actually, people have reported that her weeping can be heard in the white vapor of the fog and is carried all over Vanaheimr.”  
Loki frowned.  
“You sure you did not just add that last bit because we are literally wading through the mist right now?”  
“Oh no, how could I treat my Lord like a child listening to my scary-stories? I just sought to answer your question as detailed as possible.”  
“Good. I'm sure you can figure what happens if I find that you have withheld knowledge from me.”  
“Yes yes, that would add to my many decapitations. I must admit, I have lost count of those.” He giggled. “Not that it matters much. In the end, I only have one head. It's either chopped or on top.”  
The god studied his companion, who had no problem to speak of dark futures in a chipper tune.  
“How come that you don't fear death?”  
The other man raised an eyebrow.  
“That is a personal question.” Loki kept quiet. It was. Why did he bother, though? Well, the question was out. He decided to leave it to the skáld what he made out of it. They walked a while before he spoke again.  
“It just surprised me that you cared to know, my Lord. I had to think about it, myself. Truth be told, it never occurred to me to fear what I know for certain. Being born is anyone's death sentence.”  
“I guess many don't know that it isn't death itself they fear. Rather, it is the pain and possibility to lose life before they feel they had their good share of it. I have seen many soldiers turn and run before, during and after battles.”  
“One's good share of life, huh.”  
“Do you disagree?”  
“No... and yes. From my point of view, living is selfish.” The god frowned.  
“Do you mean right now, by being here, you are acting selfish?”  
“Haha!” He did not know where to place that laugh. The bard was smiling, but a melancholy rang in his voice.  
“Oh yes! Very, very selfish. For a while now, I've been doing as I please. To live is to take, and there is only so little one has to give.”  
“That is quite a dark take on the matter. Or at least it seems harsh for someone of your profession.”  
“Mhm.. that is your judgment. From my standpoint, it doesn't feel like that. Take our pal Forkur, for example.”  
“He is a disgrace!” His strong feelings surprised him as they suddenly bubbled to the surface. “Who knows how many he has send into the arms of those filthy bandits? You were sold merely for your name and either left to starve or sold into slavery.”  
As usual, the blinds eyes stayed shut and his expression calm. He took his time with an answer, leaving the god to cool down a little. Still, his anger simmered.  
“Right, but that is why he is still alive. Had he refused to cooperate with these bandits, they would've just killed him. It was either him or me.”  
“Are you seriously defending his actions right now?”  
“No, I see no need to defend him from your judgment. You are free to view him however you want. I'm just trying to explain why I don't look at it that way.”  
“I am no longer interested in your twisted thoughts.”  
“As you wish, my lord.”

They carried on in silence and Loki found it better that way. Soon, the dawn of day was upon them. The fog cleared a little, lingering just about the ground. The dark blue of the night fought a hopeless fight with the thick orange of the rising sun that would emerge any minute now. The twilight got a hold of the forest, trimming the trees into a black, paper-cut silhouette before the skies colorful display. The mist caught a few rays of light and received a purplish facet to its range of colors. The sight was stunning.  
“I see why she would stay here...”, the god mumbled to himself.  
“It must be an awe-inspiring sight even for my lord, then.”  
“Mh?” He hadn't realized that he had spoken aloud. But of course, the skáld would hear him. “There is no hiding anything from those ears of yours.”  
“If my Lord wishes for more privacy, I can pretend to 'turn a deaf ear' as others may 'turn a blind eye' on some matters.”  
“Pfft. I'd appreciate that.”  
“Very well.”  
The early morning sun was bright, but not warm. The air was chilly and the trees damp from rain and fog. Of course, as one of the sturdy Asen, it didn't affect Loki. Ljósi, on the other hand, was trembling at his side. His clothes had been tattered since they met and he had torn off a sleeve to tend to his wound. Apparently, they were not doing a good job to fight off the cold. Such frailty was really inconvenient. Nonetheless, he didn't plan on making any concessions. The bard could suck it up.  
Ljósi did ask for him to stop twice, but only to look for berries one time and for a certain type of mushroom the other. Loki bit his lip and collected them according to the skálds instructions. He used the two pillow sheets they packed and just tied the four ends on the top to make for simple pouches. Ljósi insisted to knot them to a branch they picked up, since they would get smashed in the big bag. Sensing Loki's annoyance, he offered to carry the stick with his free hand. Resting it against his shoulder, they continued. Loki understood that the skáld needed food to survive. But that didn't stop him from feeling irritated for all the time they had to waste.  
Around noon, Ljósi asked him to stop a third time. The god whirled around and snarled at him.  
“What is it your runty body needs now?”  
“I said this would be a good time and place to rest, my Lord.”  
“Why?”  
“The ground is mossy and soft and there's a river nearby. If we rest now, we can travel all night, which I favor. You seem to have no difficulties seeing at night and it doesn't make a difference for me. Like that, we should arrive in Voluspá early morning tomorrow.”  
Loki considered the proposal and hated to admit that it was quite sound.  
“Let's leave our excess luggage here and you'll direct me to that river.”  
“Yes!”  
“And wipe that darn smile off your face!”  
“Yes.”  
Soon, he could hear the mild stream of water, too. A minute later, it was in sight. The river was fairly broad and the waters were shallow. At his deepest, the water level might reach his trunk. He made his way to the banks through the shrubs. Few steps away, Ljósi left his side, tore off his boots and waded into the water. Eagerly, he started scouping water to his mouth and drank it. At last, he splashed his face.  
“Aah!”, he exclaimed fulfilled. “Just what I needed!” He waved in the general direction of the bank.  
“You should have some, too, my Lord! Don't worry, Vanaheimr is home to gods of nature. The soils are rich and waters clean.”  
“I know, goop.” He bent down and took a few quick sips from the crystal clear water. It was ice cold, but maybe felt really energizing because of that. The bard came wading back to him.  
“How is it, my Lord? I could catch us some fish for dinner.”  
“You want to catch fish? Never mind your blindness, but we don't even have a knife to carve simple spears from branches.”  
The bard grinned and hold up his hands.  
“Luckily, all the tools I need are attached to my body.”  
“Catching fish bare-handed? You? I doubt it.”  
“If I manage to catch one, can I ask my Lord a favor?”  
“You want to bet with the god of tricks?” He laughed his offer off. Ljósi's expression twitched. The god caught a glimpse of it and reconsidered.  
“Interesting! I accept! However, should you fail, I'll think of a punishment.”  
“Deal!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix:
> 
> Some elaborate explanations on Njords family situation in this fic:  
> The whole affair with the god Njord, his family, the Vanir-Aesir war and the hostages that were exchanged in order  
> to bring peace to the warring nations changes, depending on the source material that the accounts of the war are  
> taken from. For this fic, I'm arranging them as such  
> \- Njord's sister/wife is (Nist), they are parents to Freyr and Freyja  
> \- Their union is looked down upon in Asgard as it is too close to the own kin  
> \- Njord, Freyr and Freyja make up the hostages send to Asgard long ago during the war
> 
> Thanks for reading


	6. Camping with You And a Dinner for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Ljósi continue their journey to Voluspá

Beaming with confidence, the bard waded back into the water until he had crossed about one third of the river. Due to his short stature, the water already reached up to his hips. He settled into an upright stance, bent his head a little and lowered his hands to hover just about the surface, spread open. In that position he froze. The god took the display in with an amused grin. He found a withered trunk nearby and settled there for comfort. From his seat he watched the show. However, what he saw started to bore him soon. The skáld didn't budge an inch. Time passed and eventually, Loki got so bored that he started counting it. With eight minutes, he reached his limits. His eyes trailed off, searching for something else to observe. Anything was more interesting than the stone pillar in that river. Finally, his eyes wandered to the sky. Clouds strolled along lazily without a care in the world. His gaze followed one particular specimen for a while, before it disappeared behind tree tops. How long has it been since he participated in such leisure time? Ever since he had lost his powers and traveled through Vanaheimr, he was forced to do things much, much slower than usual. Even more so since the blind bard tagging along. It irritated him for the most part. But gazing at the clouds for the first time in centuries or enjoying a marvelous sunrise were different experiences. It was almost...  
SPLASH! The noise tore his attention back to the river, where Ljósi lifted a wiggling fish like a trophy from the stirred waters.  
“My Lord! My Lord! Did you see that?!” He rushed to the bank like an excited kid.  
“Calm down already. No, I didn't see the moment you caught that fish.”  
“What? But I wanted to show off a little.”  
“You took forever to catch it. Don't you think it's a bit of a stretch, expecting your god to watch you all this time?”  
“You're just being a sour loser. I'll have to end this creatures suffering, first. If you'll excuse me.”  
He strode past him and crouched down, searching the ground. When he found a rock, he spoke a few words and beat the fish until it stopped struggling. He stood up and somehow his mood swung back to cheerful again.  
“Well, today is your lucky day, my lord! Because you get the chance to admire my technique while I catch another fish.”  
“What nonsense are you blabbering? You have your dinner. We're heading back.”  
“But my lord! How could I enjoy my food when I know you are not provided for?”  
“I am a god of Asgard. Our bodies are not dictated by these mundane needs like yours. You should have realized.”  
“Of course, but my Lord is forgetting our little bet.”  
“Is this related to your favor?”  
“Correct! To be specific, I'd like to have a meal together with my Lord.”  
“You have the opportunity to ask the great Loki Odinsson a favor and that is your demand? Have your senses finally left you?”  
“Don't make light of the matter! It is of utmost importance!”  
“Pfft. Fine. I guess dining with a god is an honor worthy to be earned. Go catch me some fish, then. But they have to be bigger than the tiny example you just scooped out. That's nowhere enough for a god's meal.”  
“I see! Then, would you mind helping me prepare our dinner?”

Packed heavy, they headed back to the campsite. Loki sulked, because Ljósi had made him look for herbs according to his descriptions while he had caught more fish. Not only that. When he had finished fishing, Ljósi inspected the gods result. Sniffing, rubbing and licking the plants, he put aside at least half of his hard effort as uneatable or even poisonous. He then went on to lecture the god again on herb lore and how to clearly differentiate between harmless plants and the more or less dangerous lookalikes while they walked.  
“I know that some of these plants are only native to Vanaheimr, but I somehow expected them to be used fairly in Asen medicine, too. I mean, we do use Asgard's plants here as well. Is medicine not one of many fields you were educated in as a noble, no, royal offspring even?”  
“Of course I was! But since I can use my magic to heal any kind of damage, I never saw the need to pay attention to these mundane lessons and put my efforts elsewhere. Plus when we handled these herbs, they were already provided in shredded or ground form.”  
“Well that makes sense. I should double-check before I make any assumptions.”  
“You better. I won't allow such patronizing behavior again.” Loki tried his best to stay calm. Don't let the anger get the better of you. This was a good opportunity to inquire further into Vanaheimr. “Where did _you_ learn all of this?”  
“From my grandfather.”  
“Was it related to his profession?”  
“Oh no. He grew up in very poor circumstances, so this knowledge secured his family food on their plates and medicine in times of sickness. By the time I was born, we we're better off. But grandpa still often ventured to the woods. My mother found this behavior of neediness embarrassing and forbid me to tag along. I did either way and am now profiting from his wisdom.”  
“You said your family was better off in the next generation. I guess your grandfather grew up in the aftermath of the war. Would you say many families made the same experience?”  
Ljósi raised his head a little towards the god. His fingers tugged harder at his tunic. Just like an alert animal. He took his time to answer. Just as Loki wanted to pressure him, the skáld spoke up.  
“At first I thought that, yes. I grew up in Agnil, the second largest city of Vanaheimr. The river Don is close and nurtures the city with rich soil and easy routes for trade. Even the people we considered 'poor' had a roof, food and steady income. They're low rank was more social than economical. But when I started traveling the vast outskirts of our realm due to my profession, I saw a bigger picture.  
After the war, the land was shattered. Asgard picked up trade with Vanaheimr and the cities close to the border flourished fast. But the wealth didn't distribute evenly because of bad infrastructure and local political disputes. Migration from the land only fueled the situation.  
Many people I've met on my journey complain that they have never been off well. After the war, however, their already peculiar lives took a turn for the worse.  
To conclude: No, my Lord. I know for sure that the majority are barely getting by with sustaining their families.”  
Loki took those bits of information in. The usual lightheartedness had completely left the skáld and his serious mood surfaced.  
“I find it puzzling that your observations differ so much from the understanding of the situation we have at the palace. Either our sources of intelligence aren't honest, or...”  
“Or I am a liar.”  
“No. You are many things – annoying, calculating and weird, but you know better to even try to lie in front of me. No, you believe these words. I just want to tell whether that is your personal truth or a general.”  
“Ah. My Lord is a person that comes to wise decisions through a lot of thinking and observation. Lucky me, meeting and even serving under a great god.”  
“Stop your flattering remarks.”  
“I simply wish to word my thoughts and feelings.”  
“It's unnecessary. Keep them to yourself unless I ask you to.”  
“This instant?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I will keep the side note that we seem to have long passed our campsite to myself.”  
The god stopped in his tracks and took some time to look at their surroundings. With a deep sigh, he turned on his heels. Suddenly he felt very tired.  
“I appreciate your effort.”

It took him twenty minutes to find the way back to camp. When they arrived, he just wished to lay down and sleep. But the already back to chipper bard kept him busy.  
“Is making a fire also part of a god's training?”  
“Not specifically, but I've seen my brother and his friends do it countless times on our hunting trips.”  
“Then I'll gladly rely on my Lord while I prepare fish and veggies. The legs from table and chair should come in handy now. You'll only need to look for some leaves and twigs for the start.”  
“I know that much.”  
“Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I hope my Lord looks forward to this meal as much as I do.”  
“Barely.”  
Ljósi didn't push the matter and just smiled mildly while he started to sort through the herbs. Loki also set out to accomplish his task. Dry leaves and twigs weren't hard to find. He brushed a circular area on the ground free until there was just earth and assembled some stones he found nearby. It wasn't very windy, so he didn't really fear the fire to spread, but better safe than sorry. He got one of the legs of the chair and put it down. Placing some dry leaves on it and a relatively firm twig on top, he started rubbing it between his hands, moving them up and down the twig. After a while, smoke really soared. He fell into a rhythm where he rubbed, blew on the heat and rearranged the leaves if they fluttered away in this order. It took him longer than expected but he got a little blaze and finally the tiniest of flame. Joy bolted through his body, yet he contained himself and carefully fed more leaves and little twigs to the fire. When the flame soared steadily, he added more chair/ table legs. Ljósi soon joined him with the prepared food. He also didn't miss the chance to complement his skills. His flattery didn't get more eloquent, but Loki was tempted to return the favor. How the blind was able to handle all the tasks he was capable of despite his handicap impressed him. But his ability had to have limits. He was eager to test them with a little wager.

“It's done!” Ljósi was in high spirits. Loki stared at the perfectly crispy fish on sticks surrounding the fireplace.  
“How in Hel's name can you tell?”  
“That is really no big deed. Even my Lord can smell this amazing flavor. Now, if you would.”  
Begrudgingly, he handed the skáld the biggest fish.  
“I thought this dinner was in my honor.”  
“It was my Lord's idea to wager the biggest fish on my cooking skills. I'll honor your noble conduct by enjoying my prize to the fullest.” He attempted to take a bite, but thought twice and offered the fish back again.  
“Thinking about it, my Lord is in the right. I wished to share this meal with you and thus you should also take the first bite.”  
“A change of heart? I'll take it.” The steaming fish in his hand smelled too good to step down on the offer anyways. Ljósi had made a marinade out of the berries and herbs they'd found. The mushrooms were propped up on the sticks as well. They're roasted aroma made his mouth water. Eagerly, he bit off a big chunk and a satisfied groan could be heard. The bard laughed hardly and it should annoy him, but he didn't care. There was a heavenly explosion of taste in his mouth.  
“It's the best, right? Eating good food after an exhausting day is just so satisfying.”  
“Mhm.”  
“Wait. My Lord? Surely you remember that I earned that fish?”  
“Just take another one”, he mumbled between bites and chewing.  
“Seriously? I take back every word about noble conduct! You are a disgrace for every well-mannered man out there.”  
Busy eating, Loki didn't even listen to the skáld's insults. Ljósi, on the other hand, lost his cool.  
“May Garm drag you down to Helheim so that Nidhöggr can feast on your dead flesh! I bet consuming you're rotten self will even give that fearsome beast a bad case of diarrhea. May your halfway processed corpse end up in a pile of feces to match...mpf.”  
“Shut up! Just start eating already.” Ljósi started chewing on the mushroom Loki had used to gag him. Still furious, he devoured his food in seconds. Like this, the dinner turned into a feast. Both men gulped down food to already grab the next twig of goodies. Slurping, grunting and a few insults were the only noises. They fought over every bite. In a couple minutes, every bit was gone. Ljósi lay on his back and rubbed his stomach.  
“Ah... I ate too fast.” Loki stared into the fire. Back to his senses, he wondered what in Hel's name he was doing.  
“It wasn't quite as I'd expected, but as promised, I got to share a meal with my Lord. Thank you for granting my wish.”  
“Why use this as your reward, anyway?” Ljósi got up.  
“These are my first meals after a while. I want to enjoy them to the fullest. But that isn't all. Even before I got captured, I traveled and ate alone. The ritual of sharing a meal, I cherish it a lot.”  
“I'm the opposite. Almost every day there is an opulent feast held at the palace. Even a normal dinner is turned into an excess thanks to my brother and the other warriors. They are a rowdy bunch. It gets on my nerves, so I often skip meals. If I need food, I'm happy to find a secure place where I can just eat in silence. Today was the first time in a while that I strayed from my habit.”  
“I can definitely see such a scene happening at the palace. Most of the tales told about the Asen end this way. How nice to confirm them with the truth.”  
“So you really just blow up rumors and spread them.”  
“I have to disagree strongly. It may come as a surprise to you that serious skálds actually go through an apprenticeship under a deft master. From our master we learn the old tales and how to adapt new material. For recent events, almost every skáld keeps in contact with insiders. Of course, as in any profession, there are black sheep out there who safe themselves the trouble. However, the whole truth is often only known to those who where present and even they may choose to alter it. You must know that well. It isn't important: Important is what people believe to be the truth. I believe that you have done many feats and because I do, I am able to convince others of your greatness, too.”  
“As always, you talk a lot. But words won't change my impression of your kind.”  
“That's sad. Nonetheless, I am confident that I will find a way to get my feelings across.”  
“Dream on!”  
Ljósi chuckled, but it turned into a cough. As it only got worse, Loki realized the other man must be freezing. He had already been cold before, but now his clothes were damp and clang to his puny body.  
“Get out of these clothes and get them to dry by the fire. You'll get sick.”  
“Is my Lord worried for me?” The skáld managed to say with a cracking voice.  
“Don't get cocky. I just don't want you to become any more useless.”  
“If you are that interested in my well being, you could grab the pot and get some water from the river. I am also okay with taking it as an apology for eating my prize.”  
“You sure like to be on the brink of death... but I'll overlook this for now. I'll be back.”  
He knew it would be even worse to deal with the bard if he got sick again. So he grabbed the pot and headed to the river.

Finally, the god left. Ljósi listened to the fading sound of crunching leaves. When it was finally out of his hearing, he started stripping out of his damp clothes and rubbed his icy arms furiously. The hot food had warmed his core a little, but his limbs were still stiff. Jumping around and swinging his arms were also attempts to warm himself. He ran out of stamina quickly, though. So he stopped to turn to other tasks. Re-using the sticks from dinner, he propped his clothes on them to dry by the fire. They were messy from mud and dirt, torn and worn out. Once they were in Voluspá, he had to get new ones or see if these could be patched up. At last, he also put away his hat. Using his fingers as scale, he measured the length of his hair. It was already as long as his thumb. Entering Voluspá like this was a risk, especially with the god by his side. Ljósi was positive Loki would draw unwanted attention to them one way or another. His hands searched the ground for their bags of belongings. It took him some time to find it.  
“Damn that royal boy, just dropping things wherever he pleases.”  
When he did, he retrieved his big flute and turned it in his hands. Laypeople could be fooled with this, but any flutist could tell by the weight that this was no normal instrument designed for playing. With practiced ease, his fingers pushed the hidden lever. A satisfying swish rang out as he drew the blade and struck at an imaginary opponent. It was sheer luck that his concealed weapon found its way back to him after their little scramble with these bandits. Although getting attached was against his agenda, parting with his flutes would have left a bitter taste. To his satisfaction, the blade wasn't as dull as he had feared. He had not been able to tend to it in a long time, afterall. Of course, he could just use this to cut his hair down to stub size as usual. But how would he explain the missing hair if the god found out? Which was bound to happen if they stuck together as close as they did. It'd put him in a position to lie blandly to his face or belatedly expose the weapon to him. Both options meant a loss in trust he had worked so hard to build up between them. The fire cracked while he pondered the problem. In the end, he decided to leave the issue of his hair for later. It was dangerous, but he liked to keep his cards tight to his chest. Returning the blade to its scabbard, he put the flute back into the bag, just to get the thin linen cover of the blanket back at Forkur's.  
It wouldn't help much, but he was thankful for anything at this point. He just tied it loosely around his chest for now, so that his arms were still free to move. He also found the bowls they had taken from the Inn and used them as containers to grind the leftover herbs in. After a while, a mushy paste covered the bottom of each bowl. Now they only needed to pour hot water in and the tea was good to go. Finished with this last task, he threw the blanket over his shoulders and wrapped up until only his head popped out. His body craved warmth and he crouched as close to the fire as possible. Even though the smoke stung heavy in his eyes, nose and lungs, he wouldn't back off an inch.  
He was very concerned for his condition. The aftereffects of overusing his magic on the bandits still weighed heavy on his famished body. Slogs like today and mingling around in icy water weren't helping either. He rubbed his burning eyes.  
According to their plans, they should reach Voluspá tomorrow in the early morning. Everything would take another turn there. Loki would experience the gaping contradictions between the palace's records and the situation here in the boondocks of Vanaheimr. Ljósi was sure that was the real reason the god and his brother were send here in the first place, unbeknownst to them or not. About the missing Thor and Warrior Three... he could make an educated guess on their whereabouts. But that, too, he would leave for Loki to discover on his own. In this play, the role he intended for himself was that of a mysterious sidekick. He would give the plot a little tweak here and there for the story to unravel. But he wouldn't stick around to see how it ends. Before the final chapter, he would be long gone. As soon as Loki brought him to Asgard, his final act approached. Surely, words of the outcome would reach him sometime later. It'll be a nice story to tell. But not by him. When that time comes, he will have long disappeared from the world scene. Because then, it was finally his time to find rest and peace. The mere thought gave him hope. It had been his only wish.. for such a long time.. because he was tired.. tired... always so tired...


	7. A Sprouting Tree and a Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Already regretting this thing I started on a whim. "Wouldn't it be funny if the Chapter's titles were cheesy, bad rimes and a summary all in one?" It's not funny. I'm dying a little more on the inside every time I have to think of one. But my OCD prevents me from changing style midway. HELP!
> 
> I used this summary to rant, because there really is nothing more happening. Sorry.

“What's up with you?”  
The bard jumped in surprise and fell right back on his buttocks.  
“What? Who? Since when?”, he shrieked and failed to perform his usually collected self. Tenseness stiffened his body and he was on edge when he asked “Has my Lord returned?”  
Loki looked down on the stressed figure and enjoyed himself quite a bit. He made a step towards the blind and basked in his flinch. He covered his mouth and drew him close. Breathing into his ear, he wanted to let the skáld quiver in fear a while. But his body started to relax and there was a smile under his hand. Disappointed, he shoved Ljósi back. The bard stumbled backwards and fell. He didn't get back up, but scooted over to the fire, smirking to himself. Loki grunted under his breath and sat down next to the fire, as well.  
“How did you find out?”  
“Up close, I could smell you properly. You washed your clothes and body in the river. Why would a scoundrel care to wash up before he robs people. But did you have to play with my heart rate in the first place?”  
“You didn't react when I approached, not even after I called out to you. It was a rare opportunity, so I grasped at it.”  
“Thank you. I appreciate your effort to teach me a lesson. You are absolutely right. A good attendant should never lose focus while serving under his lord. I will keep that in mind.”  
“I'd really like to know what it takes to upset you.”  
“Oh, there are plenty reasons. It's just part of the trade to master your emotions and channel them as necessary.”  
“I feel this is your original character, and not due to your profession. Since you aren't performing right now.”  
“Everyone performs, all the time. It's just that most of it happens unconsciously, while a skáld makes it his job to be conscious of his performances and thus enabled to let others see the same.”  
“Again, you have a way to make yourself sound so important.”  
“But it's the truth. My Lord is sharp, you must have noticed this – Our positions, our relations are prescribed with certain codes. They install a system that employs expectations as currency for believability.  
For example: Your title 'God of Mischief' – it raises many expectations, right? Playing tricks, using backhanded methods, relying on magic and your mind rather than muscles. If you wouldn't meet those codes, if you were the spitting image of your brother Thor, people would question why you held such a title in the first place and dismiss it.  
Next, a simple example. Let's suppose you trip and fall down on a busy street. Many strangers pass you by without taking note, and that is fine by you, since they don't owe you anything. But what if you spot a close acquaintance in the crowd, also ignoring your situation. Wouldn't that upset you? A different relation evokes different expectations and causes us to judge a friend harsher than a stranger. Common expectations aren't met and the credibility of this person's position as a 'friend' is challenged.”  
“You suggest my actions are determined by an unconscious desire to meet others expectations?”  
“I wouldn't go as far as saying determined, but rather highly motivated.”  
“That's unthinkable. I do as I please and that only on my own account. I am living evidence to refute your little theory.”  
“Or living proof...”, Ljósi muttered under his breath, but the god still caught it. In an instance, he had the other in a headlock and grated his knuckles into his temple. The bard yelped.  
“I'm so sorry! I got out of line! Forgive me! Spare this hopeless fool!” Loki ignored the pleas until they died down and only whimpers remained. He stopped once he felt gratification. He left the other in his misery and put the pot with water on the fire, the reason he went to the river in the first place. Though the chance to wash most of the mud, dirt and dust from his body and clothes had been a nice side effect. He looked at the skáld's rags hanging around the fire to dry while the man himself had wrapped the thin sheet of the bed cover around his runty frame. Ljósi didn't seem the prim type, especially with his condition, but even he was conscious of his unsightly body. His own wet clothes felt clammy. He had put them back on after washing them to not be naked, but now he wondered why. There wasn't anybody here to watch or judge him. He scouted around the camp and collected some more twigs and branches. When he stripped out of his pants, a whistle rang out. The bard stared in his general direction. Although he knew the gray orbs couldn't see, it felt unpleasant.  
“The jealousy I could earn among every woman in the seven realms, if I bragged that the handsome Loki Odinsson stripped before my very own eyes.”  
“And what would you tell them if they asked for a detailed description?”  
“Oh there is no need to go into detail. Just leave it to a woman's imagination to draw vivid scenes from a fantasy based on every just so brittle clue. Afterwards, not denying and not confirming anything is key.”  
“You sound like you talk from experience.”  
“Hel yeah! More than you could ever guess.” There was that knowing grin on Ljósi's face that angered the god for reasons unknown to him.  
“Well in this case, reality is better than any fantasy and words fail to do the sensual experience justice.” His ego got the better of him. Such self-praise was usually Thor's style, not his. But the bard reacted amused.  
“My Lord! Please! You make this old fool feel all depressed about the condition he had finally learned to put up with. Don't make me long for the world that I can't return to.”  
His accompanied laugh was hearty and didn't leave any room for lingering regret, if there was any.  
“So you were not born blind?”  
“Right. It was a couple years after I came of age that I lost my sight.”  
“How?” There was just the slightest sign of change, not in Ljósi's body language, but rather the tension of his overall being. It was as subtle and delicate like the sound of a falling leaf, yet the god caught a glimpse of it and reacted. “You're not going to tell me the truth.”  
“I think the water for the tea is boiling. Would you mind preparing it? I'm afraid pouring liquids is not one of my strong points as your aide.” He added quickly. “Don't fret! I'm not avoiding the topic. Look. My limbs are freezing and I could really need something hot now.” He held up his hands, that were a mixture of blue and white. He already had problems moving the joints. The god looked at the bubbling water. He took it from the fire, not minding the heat, and poured some into the prepared bowls. Ljósi stretched out his hands, ready to receive the treat. Loki reminded himself to move slowly and placed it in the others palms, making sure he got a good grip before releasing his fingers. “Thank you.” Blowing on the tea, the bard's fingers eagerly clutched the rustic pottery. Preparing his own ration, he sat down again and waited.  
“I can present some truths to you, my Lord. I am just not confident whether they are sufficient. If not – I think presenting them in the first place is a grave discourtesy I could not forgive.”  
“Try it.”  
“... It was not an accident. It happened in accordance with somebody's wish. Because that wish was made, I ended up blind.”  
“What have you done, for somebody to want you lose your sight?”  
“It wasn't related to me doing anything in particular. Instead, that person tried to protect me from a world that seemed to cruel to be true.”  
“Isolating you from the world by taking one of your senses? That's a very stupid thought.”  
“Indeed.” The skáld took his first sip of tea and shuddered. “A naive way of thinking ending in a narrow minded decision. But who could hate a clumsy fool when he acts with wholehearted intentions?”  
“You're doing it again! Easily dismissing people who have clearly wronged you! The same as with Forkur!” Unimpressed, Ljósi took another sip and shuffled into a more comfortable position, crossing his legs. “My Lord, in all modesty, who am I to judge? Have I never wronged anyone? Truly? Even if I think I never did, how can I know if others feel the same? Values and sensitivities are never black or white. You, with your many centuries spend in these realms, may have a sense for these things. But I can not answer to such a claim. So I don't. I leave such decisions in the hands of the smart deities I praise. That's why I spread your tales – so that others may come to the same conclusion as I. And believe me, I do not envy your position. Were I to swap with you for a day, it would be the worst punishment imaginable.”  
The god did not answer. Instead, he tried the tea. It had a strong taste, earthy, but not as bitter as he expected. He could feel the warm liquid comfortably spreading through his throat and torso. It was good.  
“Normally, you would've dismissed my thoughts by now, my Lord.”  
“Wise people listen to what others have to say. How can I allow myself a mistake, when you put so much faith in me. Go on.”  
“I must admit, I did not expect this. I have lost my train of thoughts.”  
“Take your time.” They stared into the fire. Occasionally, slight slurping could be heard. Ljósi finished his first and Loki refilled his bowl without a word. Shortly after, he did the same for himself. It was afternoon and the sun had started her descend, finally reaching through the trees and bestowing them with her warm rays.  
“My grandparents taught me the traditional believes of the simple people in Vanaheimr. Our lands are blessed with rich soil, ensuring a bountiful harvest. But that should lead no one to take anything for granted. What we take, we have to give back at some point. Before the Asen took up trading with us, most regions were self-sustaining, by and large relying on agriculture. For that to work, the people needed to converse with gods and spirits frequently, to make sure they were satisfied with their end of the deal. Offerings, cycles of hunting, harvesting and rest had to be followed strictly. The old tongue, however, was complicated and only a few were able to speak it. Thus, those individuals played a crucial role in communicating the needs of the people and those of the gods likewise. It was a position of high responsibility. But people will be people and disputes were common. At one point however, a priestess tricked the gods one too many times. Enraged, they left their creations behind. Plants withered, riverbeds dried and animals died.”  
“I've read about that. The great famish. Asgard send help during these times.”  
“Right. They functioned as mediators and the gods returned. But things had changed. The people had lost faith and the gods had lost trust. New ways of feeding them had opened up. Trade with Asgard was an easier, faster alternative. Even less Vanir possessed the tongue and those left were not able to tend to all the deities. Dispute kept creeping into people hearts and finally erupted in a fraction that blamed Asgard for their misery.”  
“Which ended up in the grate war.”  
“Right. But with the exchange of hostages, peace was achieved and I was able to grow up in better conditions than ever. I am very grateful for that.”  
“Me too.” Ljósi lifted his head away from the fire towards the god.  
“My Lord?”  
“For sharing your thoughts and knowledge with me, I am grateful. By not listening carefully before, I have done you wrong.” The bowl revolved in Ljósi's hands. His fingers wouldn't stop their work even as he spoke. “What an unforeseen turn of events. Don't get me wrong, I am happy. But one part of me can't help but feel awkward when my Lord has such kind words for me. It misses you snarling at me.”  
“That's the fool in you speaking.”  
“Ah, you're right. But what to do? I like him a lot.”  
“Then get him back here! I tire of this sentimental talk as well.”  
“As they say: When in doubt, listen to old Odin's cackling ravens. This is much preferable.”  
“You have no idea. Hugin and Munin are like stupid parrots who fell into a barrel of tar by accident.” The bard held his stomach laughing. Loki chuckled at his high pitched laugh.  
“What a shame! If I could trade a kidney for a jug of Met, I wouldn't think twice and pour my Lord the first horn.”  
“If I had my powers, I would take you up on that deal.”  
“It is a shame.”  
“Like this, we can only rest now, to go on when night falls and reach Voluspá during the early morning. There, I will find Thor and his stupid friends and make him call on Heimdall. Nothing is to be done about this until then.”  
“Right.”

They finished the tea in silence. Ljósi felt his body greedily sucking in any form of heat he could acquire. Yet it was never enough. Not the gentle warmth provided by the setting sun, not the playful dance of the flames he sat so close to, and not even the hot tea running through his stomach, eased the biting frost gripping his innermost part. For a while now, this stiffing cold had settled in his core. He was well aware of the graveness of these signs. But instead of worry, odd tranquility filled him. Why the god had suddenly changed his behavior or what made him find more trust, was completely beyond the skáld. From one second to the other, their relationship made a big step ahead. Much earlier than he had estimated. Of course, he was very satisfied, but their was a foreign note attached to that feeling. As of now, he could not put his finger on it. Literally shrugging his doubts off, he stretched his arms and put the bowl aside. While he had dwelt on his thoughts, his senses had lost trace of the god of mischief. Too tired to locate him discreetly, he opted for the easy route.  
“My Lord?”  
“What?” Ah. So he still sat beside the fire, as well.  
“As planned, we should rest now, so we can make it to Voluspá by the dawn of day. Just to make sure, I advise we stay on guard nonetheless. If it is alright with you, I will do my duty as attendee and take the first shift.”  
“Disagreed. You were already dozing off when I came back from the river.”  
“That was just a...”  
“I order you to rest first. My aide should know his limits and not endanger me by overestimating them. Your body and mind are tired. Go sleep!”  
“Thank you very much, my Lord. As always, I have many things to learn from you. Excuse my inexperience. I hope to improve fast. I will do as I was told. Pardon me, I will rest first, then.”  
Loki only huffed. Relieved, Ljósi laid his head to rest. He took some time to curl up and shift to find a comfortable position, while also making sure that all of his body was covered by the thin blanket. But for now, he still resisted sleep's siren call. Instead, he forced his thoughts to focus on tomorrows schedule. The matter of his appearance needed to be taken care of, before they entered the city. A piece of charcoal would do the trick. As for the proud god, he had to somehow make it quite clear that declaring himself as – well, _himself_ – wasn't the wisest of actions in Voluspá. Especially in his current state. Money was a pressing issue, too. He would need to canvass his contacts to land a job. He could earn some fast cash, while the little prince of Asgard explored the state of affairs. Most likely, he would also find a trace of Thor and the lost company. Yes, there were still many trials ahead. But dwelling on maybe's and what if's wasn't helping. Sleeping would. He felt for the runic lines covering his back, the magic they infused was still intact. How much energy had been used up by now? A light breeze picked up the smoke and carried it directly to him, stinging his eyes uncomfortably. Annoyed, he turned around. After he settled down once more, he calmed his breath and relaxed his mind. His ears concentrated on the calm crackle of wood, his nose picked up the smell of earth, moss and dried leaves close to his face. A little more than a fourth perhaps, he concluded. He had to use his magic exceedingly since he met the second prince. The little trick with the bandits had cost as much as he had spent entirely in the last two centuries. Heaviness tore at his limbs, as if they could still sink deeper into the ground. And they did. He didn't struggle, when the earth embraced him, swallowing to welcome him to the abyss. At the bottom waited her most private chambers, cozy and alluring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the Aesir-Vanir-War  
> \- A reason for the War between the two classes of gods is not really mentioned in the different historic sources. So I made up my own. I repeat, this is not how it went down or rather how it came down in legend. Some scholars interpret the War as a symbolic interpretation of an actual clash of believes, which in the end merged together.
> 
> Odin's Ravens  
> \- Hugin and Munin, supposedly sit on Odin's shoulders and tell him everything they've seen and heard over the cause of a day. When I pictured the eye-patched allfather with two birds on his left and right shoulder, repeating everything they've heard others say (And heck they report the events of an entire day. Maybe even at the same time. Do they know how to summarize or sort through their reports? I doubt it. That's gonna take forever!) - I instantly thought of a pirate with his parrots. Hence Loki's remark.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Interlude

Natan's gaze slowly swept over every single face in front of him. The weak flinched, the strong held his gaze and the detached remained passive – only the cook averted his eyes. Realizing his mistake a little too late, he tried for a recovery, which was in turn silenced with a single disapproving shake of the head. Natan had his catch for the day. Immediately the cook's shoulders – his whole stature – slumped. He was a man in his forties, had a round belly, swollen extremities he flapped around and big, fleshy hands that did not fit his otherwise short and cramped looking stature. His skills were among the best, though it wasn't much of an accomplishment in this bumpkin town. In the capital, his talents were barely sufficient to run a street-stall. But trying to get qualified personal from the big cities was too expensive.  
“It seems that Bjorn here, is ready to answer my question. Please, go ahead.” The last hint of color left the middle-aged man's face, as Natan began to reel in.  
“We -We serve our Lady.”  
“Exactly! Very good, Bjorn. It's reassuring that you at least have not forgotten the fact that you're serving.”  
“I- Of course I know that! She is such an important figure! It's an honor serving under her name.”  
“Right. She is. And Yes, it is. If you understand that; How come you do not act accordingly? Why are your actions lacking?”  
“It was never my intention to sully...”  
“Your intentions do not matter! You're actions do. And for two weeks straight, I've missed finding raspberries on the list of expenses for groceries.” Bjorn swallowed, licked his lips and put all of his left-over fight and spit in the balance.  
“Raspberries are going out of season, and the harvest wasn't as great in the beginning due to the cold spring this year. At every market I frequented, prices were horrendous in relation to quality and quantity of the goods. And knowing that the Main-Estate's office has cut on our finances, I thought it was a good opportunity to save some money.” There was a pause among the crowd. All eyes on Natan, his hands, his eyes, his motions. Self-aware, the administrator pinched the bridge of his nose. Theatrical gestures like this were not part of his natural body language, but he knew to use them when needed. Abruptly, he turned on his heels. “Undrun?”  
“Yes?”, a soft voice replied. She had been working in this mansion from a young age, long before Natan took over. Wrinkly and leathery skin, not much of a talker, not much of a presence, but always diligent. In his head, he bestowed her with the title 'model servant'. While the rest was baffled with the change of addressee, the compact woman waited for the next command. “What is your job here in this house?”  
“I clean our Ladies personal chambers. You also entrusted me with the supervision of all servants concerned with cleaning tasks.”  
“Right. And I almost have no complains with your work. Although you may want to speak to the person who polished the second spare cutlery set of the dining room in the wagtail-wing.”  
He watched her eyes briefly shift to a young man he just employed last winter, before nodding approvingly. “I shall see to it as soon as this gathering ends.”  
“Good. I have one more question for you.”  
“Sir?”  
“Aside from cleaning and supervising the other staff in cleaning, what do you do here?”  
“Nothing, Sir.”  
“Why?” Undrun blinked like someone, who was completely baffled hearing a question about what was part of the implicitness of life for them. It took her some time to formulate an answer.  
“These are the only tasks I was given, for due reason. I excel at cleaning this house, because it's what I've been doing for almost fifty years. I know every corner like the back of my hand. I am qualified to lead the other staff, because of my experience.” Satisfied, he nodded and turned back to the cook, who had just begun to relax a little since the focus had not been on him for a while. He became even tenser now, as Natan started to pull hard again for the final round.  
“So, Bjorn, is it your job to worry about our expenses?”  
“No, Sir.”  
“What is your job?”  
“To cook, Sir.”  
“What are our Ladies favorite Berries?”  
“Raspberries.”  
“Correct. So what do you always stock, in case our Lady drops by on short notice?”  
“Raspberries.”  
“All her favorite items, in fact. I'm sure as an attentive cook, you are well aware. But just in case, I will keep an extra eye on the stock lists for now. And if I see that we are running out of any of her favorites, I will have to look for a cook that has a better memory. But I'm sure that won't happen again, now that your attention is back on track with your task in this house. What is your task in this house?”  
“To cook for our Lady.” Sweat covered the cooks face, a slimy film on top of his skin. Not yet. He didn't had him on quite the right spot. So he waited, observed, all calm and collected. The man quaked in his boots, ready to break under pressure. It wasn't a long pause, perhaps just a few seconds, but Natan saw the change in his opposite, when realization dawned on him.When he spoke again, his eyes were dull like a dead fish. “I mean, to serve our Lady her favorite dishes anytime, whenever she wishes.”  
“That's better!” Now. He clapped frantically and turned to the whole entourage. The contrasting noise relieved the room of the worst of the blood-freezing tension. The cook had returned to his ranks among the others, next to the gardener and maidservant number five. Pleased, he took in the effect his little demonstration had on the inhabitants of his personal fish farm. Sometimes, it was good to take the hand net and catch one of those slimy bastards, let their kin watch him wiggle and gasp for air just to return him to them.“So, what can we take away from this little gathering? First, Every single one of you is here to serve our Lady. Second, you only need to put all of your energy into the one task you were employed to perform. If everyone (He eyed the young man who had left the cutlery messy) here sticks to those simple rules, we can successfully create a house to that our Lady will gladly return. You are dismissed.”  
Next time, he only needed to stretch for the hand net and his fish would start to squirm and flail. All the excitement this little incident caused died down, when he saw the messenger from the main estate wait in front of his office. Pride comes before a fall, after all, he thought, as he hurried his step to welcome this obnoxious person with a friendly smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> \- Natan and Bjorn (Björn) are names without further meaning  
> \- Undrun = Surprise, astonishment


	9. Seeing the Light in a Starless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While they rest, Loki takes his time to think the situation over and draws his conclusions about the mysterious Ljósi that change everything.

Loki flipped through the pages of his journal. They were all just short notes. 

_Day 87, stopped at an Inn. Road just as bad as the days before. Will reach Voluspá tomorrow. No other guests → very few travellers on the road. Weak trade #46._

Well, the explanation for the few travellers on this route to Voluspá was obvious now and Ljósi's testimony verified the many indications for a weak economy he had observed. Luckily, the pen was still attached to the notebook. As he filled in the events and every useful information he got out of the skáld, he recapped their journey so far. 

All in all, he had been confronted with a change of perspective ever since the loss of his powers. But only after he met Ljósi, had he really started dealing with it. He smiled. His mother was a tutor through and through, offering him a chance to learn and grow even during punishment. When Ljósi had explained why he did not dare to judge people, Frigga's intentions struck Loki. Understanding her actions made him a lot calmer. Unconsciously, he had been on edge ever since he started the mission. The feeling of being put at a disadvantage nagged at him, unfairly treated by the one and only person who had never done him wrong. Plus the mockery of Thor and his friends had been unbearable.

As for the skáld: The curled up blanket by the fire didn't budge an inch. Getting to know Ljósi felt like peeling an onion with too many layers of skin. His gaze wandered back to the open notebook in his lap. He wrote down a new headline on a new page.

_Ljoskóllur Aronson_  
Age:  
Background: Upper middle-class. Hails from Agnil. Son of Aron.  
Family status: Unmarried, no children (?)  
Physique: Ca. 1.69m, ca.50Kg (malnutrition), scar on upper back, unique silver hair, slender build  
Disabilities: Blind by assault, fright of heights (?)  
Profession: Travelling skáld  
Abilities: Keen senses, rhetoric, singing+flutist  
Magic: Spell based, utilizes the voice, targets peoples minds, not able to directly influence the environment, usage takes a toll on the caster's body = old Vanen tongue (?)  
Affiliation: Asgaard (claim) 

Putting down the facts only lead to more questions. If Ljósi was of decent heritage, why did he work as skáld? And who had taught him magic of such power? The lullaby and the madness attack on the bandits were impressive feats only topped by the enchantment in the woods, that had knocked the god out immediately.  
But what about the increasingly heavy physical backlash? If one utilized magic with power beyond their abilities, two things happen. First, the uncontrolled power damages the body trying to channel it. Second, with failing control the intended purpose does not come into effect. Be it healing, concealing, defending or attacking. Ljósi's magic, however, did not fail its purpose. So how? 

Though he was resting, his expression was drained. He stuck close to the fire, yet his body still trembled. Loki scooted over to him. Part of him expected those jug ears to pick up on his movement and the head they were attached to rise up alarmed. But nothing of the sort happened. He was out cold. If it wasn't a lack of control, Loki could only think of one more option. 

This was the best opportunity to check his thesis. Both of his hands hovered over the sleeper and searched for something... a trace...a tinge...there! It was harder without his own powers, but he could still detect magic from Ljósi's back. Carefully, he tugged down the blanket and peered beyond the neck. The view made him swallow. There had been no doubt of his condition, but the baggy rags had at least covered most of it up. Looking at the thin skin stretching over bones like a too small gown was sickening. Casting aside his disgust, he concentrated on the task at hand. The white lines of the scar on his neck he had glimpsed at before trailed all the way down to his lower back, where some weapon had presumably stabbed him a long time ago. It drew a criss-cross pattern similar to veins. Except that veins transport blood, a symbol of life. These scars, on the other hand, were the source of the eery magic Loki picked up. He reached out and touched a white line. Immediately, he felt something dark grappling his own energy, eager to suck him dry. Within the blink of an eye, his hand retreated. Rubbing the fingers, he tried to get rid of the stained feeling. His suspicion was correct: A curse! This dumb skáld had gotten himself cursed! 

Loki was surprised at the anger bubbling up inside of him. He retreated to his personal file on Ljósi to add the new intel. Curses only worked when the host's magical power surpassed those of the victim. It was similar to how his mother had blocked his powers, though she had not acted out of sinister reasons. This magic, on the other hand, was fatal. Yes, he could see it clearly now. Making enemies with a powerful foe was the crux of the matter with Ljósi. 

The child of a well-off family with a considerable talent for magic. Some might even use the word prodigy. Aside from his talent, his unusual appearance further set him apart. Such a position arouses envy. Considering his talent for trouble, Ljósi might just have pissed off the wrong person at some point. The accident with his eyes and the curse, they surely were the work of the same culprit. And thus he was forced to leave, hidden among the traveling folks and shaving his head to get rid of his trademark. That's why he got that aimless feeling about the skáld. He had nowhere to return to and no specific way to go. 

Was that the real reason why he stubbornly stuck to the god? With their chance encounter in the bandits den, Ljósi's life had taken an unexpected turn. Loki tried looking at the situation from Ljósi's point of view. He remembered one of their first conversations back at the bandit's hideout. The first time Ljósi had shown him an honest expression – when he got mad at him for suggesting to just live the life of an exotic, pampered pet for some noble. That was the kind of death he dreaded. And that was the danger that awaited him, if he failed running away. So to him, Loki had appeared like a lifeline. The golden chance to slip away from his dim fate. That's why he clung tightly to the god, no matter how bad he treated him. Vanaheimr was scorched earth to him, with enemies lurking behind every corner. 

If he wanted to start anew, another realm was his only option. But travelling between realms just for personal reasons was a costly trip, and sometimes, even high ranking nobles got rejected. With his current social and economical status, it was out of the question. That's why... Realization struck the god. It was his one and only goal. Ljósi had chosen the god as his gateway to Asgard. As what did not matter.  
At first, he had pissed him off, to the point where he had been ready to snatch him as a slave to torment him in the Asgardian prison to his satisfaction. Following that, he had presented himself as an 'interesting subject', a pet to keep around. At last, with the dinner he had curried favour with the god as the good aide, a loyal companion. And he had been so close to fall for it hook, line and sinker. 

His fingers twitched as he felt the urge to strangle that slim neck, to brake it like a twig. But he remained level-headed, waiting for the compulsion to subside. When he was sure there were no traces of the affect left, he returned to the pitiful bundle's side. He stretched out behind him, one arm wrapping around his waist to pull their bodies closer. The body in his arms was limp and cold and if there wasn't a steady heart beat and breath under this blanket, he could be convinced to be hugging a corpse. But the skáld was still alive. And Loki swore from this point, this man's life stood under his jurisdiction alone. 

*

_"Wake up, Dear."_  
No.  
"Little bird, you're dreaming."  
You're wrong.This _is a dream._  
"Do you want me to kiss you awake?"  
Don't touch me. I need to wake up.  
"Just a little peck on your fluffy head."  
Don't get any closer. Don't touch me. Get away. Don't touch my hair. Don't touch me. Stop. 

"WAKE UP!!" Loki yanked the skáld up while screaming into his ear. Dumbstruck, the other man rubbed his ears."For someone who claims to have such keen senses, it is astonishingly hard to wake you up. Get dressed already!" He shoved the dry rags to Ljósi and began to pack up what little inventory they had in the bag. As he turned to get the blanket, he saw that Ljósi was on the ground again, fumbling with his overcoat.  
"Have you become mute overnight?"  
"My Lord?"  
"What? Are my words incomprehensible for you, blind one?"  
A sigh of relief.  
"...Excuse my dreamy state, my Lord. I'm just... no.. nevermind. Thank you very much for waking me up. What time is it approximately?"  
"The moon has already started his descent. I assume the sun will set in four hours."  
"Right. If we keep yesterday's pace, we can arrive in Voluspá before noon."  
"Not if you keep dawdling about."  
"I'm sorry. I just need to make one last preparation." Ljósi felt for a piece of charcoal in the fire pit and smeared it over his eyebrows.  
"Concealing your haircolor?"  
"Yes. It only causes unwanted attention. Usually, my eyebrows are shaved as well and I just use coal to draw them when I perform. It helps to exaggerate expressions. I'll have my hair shaved again on the next opportunity."  
Other than his eyebrows, he also managed to smear coal over the rest of his face.  
"It's not very convincing if you just slap it on like that. Here, lend me your sleeve." Loki stepped up to Ljósi and helped him clean up. His skin was glistening with sweat.  
"Thanks, my Lord."  
"Nevermind. Let's get going." He guided one of the small hands around his waist to hold on to, threw the bag over his back and put his free hand on Ljósi's shoulder for support. "Ready?"  
"Yes."

It was apparent that the bard had reached the end of the line. Even in the dark, Loki could see that his complexion was that of a ghost. He had a fever and leaned on Loki more and more. Still, it was impressive that he dragged his body through the woods for three more hours before it collapsed. The god caught him with ease and lowered him to the ground carefully.  
"...I.. sorry my Lord... I'm done..."  
"I realized that since we set off. I'm impressed you got this far on your own feet."  
"...A..."  
"Save your breath. Here, get on my back." He got on a knee and waited. Ljósi complied and slung his arms around Loki's neck. Giving him a piggyback, the god continued their journey.  
"In Vóluspa... go to Búri's..."  
"Hush now. It's alright." Few moments later, Ljósi's head landed on his shoulder with a bump and a content sigh.  
"So warm...", were the last words he spoke. And for the rest of the journey, Loki only heard the jingle of the accessories on Ljósi's hat and felt his huffing breath in his neck. A smirk crossed the god's face. All of the possibilities for revenge on the skáld he came up with tickled him pink. Little did he knew, it would take seven days before Ljósi opened his eyes again. And at that time, the god of tricks wouldn't be the one at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long hiatus. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this series anymore and heartlessly dropped it. However, now I'm back on track. Though I will have to rewrite the whole thing once I'm done to pick up loose/ false ends and polish rough edges. Surely a downside to uploading works in progress. 
> 
> Thanks to anyone who sticks around!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
